


A Hitchhiker's Guide to Skyrim: Dragonborn

by Novum_Semita



Series: A Hitchhiker's Guide to Skyrim [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: A Whole Lotta Slow Burn, Cross-dimensional Travel, Earth, Earthling Dragonborn, F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 148,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novum_Semita/pseuds/Novum_Semita
Summary: With Lord Harkon defeated and the Prophecy a mere memory, life returns to a relative calm for Emily and Serana. But life in Skyrim is seldom straightforward and it isn't long before new begins to stir. Old memories are dug up, old friends and old adversaries. And among them, something new.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Serana
Series: A Hitchhiker's Guide to Skyrim [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587040
Comments: 61
Kudos: 103





	1. Prologue

The rain poured down heavily on the streets of Glastonbury, turning the roads to wide swathes of swift flowing water and the pavement was dotted with large puddles. It bounced off the shale roofs and dripped from the leaves of the beech trees that stood in the town park. The sky was a leaden grey and the streets were empty for all save one. A woman slogged through the downpour; her arms weighted down by large bags of groceries. The rain ran in rivulets down her yellow raincoat and dripped from her sodden hair. It squelched in her boots and she grumbled under her breath as she trudged along the streets, past shops and cafes, drugstores and restaurants. The buildings in this part of town were old, quaint-looking edifices painted in a myriad of colours ranging from deep brick reds to paste blues. All the market stalls had been packed away and all that was left were a few rain sodden crates lying in the alleyways between the buildings.

The only sounds were of the rain bouncing off the ground. It was a long trek to and from the grocery store, not made at all easy by the lofty location of her house atop one of the hills on the edge of town. It always rained around the festival; she should have remembered that. It was long known that the Glastonbury festival was always doomed to a deluge. It would have been easier if ‘she’ were still here with her car. But oh no, she’d decided to go off on that little trip of hers without so much as a by your leave and then didn’t even have the common decency to come back. There hadn’t been any phone calls, any letters, nothing. She might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth.

The woman swore and made a desperate grab for one of the bags which had developed a large tear in the bottom and cartons and bottles were now cascading down onto the pavement. She swore again and bent to pick them up. She stopped as a shadow fell over her and she saw a pair of heavy boots stop before her.

“A most unfortunate turn of events there,” said a voice. It was low and seemed to demand a certain level of respect from all who heard it. She looked up and saw a man standing over her. He bent down and lifted one of the cartons.

“Allow me to assist you, Maylene,” he continued. The woman froze where she knelt.

“How do you know my name?” she asked.

“I believe you know a friend of mine,” replied the man, depositing the carton into her bag, “I’ve been looking for her for quite some time but so far she has eluded me.”

“And who are you looking for exactly?” asked Maylene shrewdly, picking up another of the boxes and depositing it in the remaining shopping bag.

“I’m looking for Emily,” replied the man. The woman snorted.

“Good luck with that,” she said, “Left without telling anyone and then never bothered to come back. Went off on some trip or other. Heaven knows where.”

“Actually, I was hoping you might help me to look for her,” the man continued, “Now, what is it you beings like to go for to pass the time, a coffee, isn’t it?” Something in the man’s manner was strange. He dressed smartly enough but his choice of colours was, to say the least, outlandish. His beard was clipped close and his eyes were a bright, almost luminescent, green. They were alive with energy, alert and analytical, seemingly taking note of every detail in the young woman’s face.

“I might help you,” said Maylene cautiously, “I would like to know what happened to her myself.” The man handed her the last carton which she dropped into her bag. “So, you know my name, what’s yours?”

“You may know me as Matias,” the man replied and he offered his arm to Maylene. She took it and followed him on down the street.


	2. The Wolf Queen Awakened

It had been three months since they’d returned from the Soul Cairn with Valerica. She returned to the castle, to her lab and to her research. Serana and Emily returned to Solitude though they were frequent visitors to Castle Volkihar. It would take a long time for the relationship between mother and daughter to mend but it was a start.

Emily had been taken back on as an apprentice at the Alchemists and now with the help of two tutors she was making progress, both in alchemy and spellwork. Serana had taught her a rudimentary invisibility spell and though it was not perfect she could move around with only a shimmer in the air to mark her presence. As Serana had predicted she had little peace as one of Emily’s new favourite pastimes was to sneak up on her wherever she was working and whisper in her ear. This would make the normally unflappable vampiress jump, spilling the contents of whatever potion she happened to be working on. She had also taught her a lightning spell as she had once promised in the ruins of Alftand. This spell, of course, had to be practiced outside the city walls for fear of startling the citizens. Emily was proving herself to be a willing and capable student and soon had a grasp of the simpler destruction spells.

It was late in the afternoon one Loredas as they sat on the back porch out of reach of the setting sun that Serana spoke up. “Do you think it might be time we started looking at property?”

Emily set down the book she had been reading. It was a book on plants native to the Colovian Highlands and was proving an interesting read.

“Well, we’ve got a tidy sum packed away already,” she said, “While it might not be enough to buy a place outright it could let us put down a deposit on a nice little place.” Serana held the mug of tea, cradling it in her hands.

“How do you go about getting a place out here anyway?” Emily asked. Serana shrugged her shoulders.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” she replied, “I’ve only ever had one home and that belonged to my parents. But talking to the steward in the palace would probably be a good place to start. He handles most affairs within the Hold.”

Emily glanced at her watch. It was a little after six.

“Well, soon as the sun sets we’ll head up to the palace,” she said, getting up off the porch and dusting herself down. Finn was playing in the snow outside. He rolled over onto his back, twisting his back against the snowy ground, getting much of it in his fur. He rolled back over and shook his head. He’d grown a lot since Emily had discovered him down by one of the many rivers she’d passed by on her way to Riften. No longer a pup, he’d grown into a sturdy young otter though this did little to dissuade him from taking his favoured position atop Emily’s shoulders when they were travelling. He got up from where he was lying and hopped up onto the porch, crawling across to where Serana was sitting where he put his head in her lap. She tickled him behind his ears and he rolled over, swatting playfully at her hand.

Emily passed through the doors which led to the front of the shop. Angeline was busy harvesting bergamot seeds from the crisp dry seed pods, emptying them into small jars ready to be used in potions. “I’m going to head out to the Blue Palace this evening,” said Emily as she unpacked several small bottles of a purple liquid from a crate lying on the desk, “See if we can get word on a place somewhere in the hold.”

“I’ll be sorry to see you both go,” Angeline replied as she emptied the last of the seeds into the jar, “You’ve been such a big help around the shop.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “So, a cosy little cottage built for two then?”

“Mmhmm,” said Emily as she picked up the broom from the corner and began sweeping the floor behind the counter. “A place in the country I think. With roses around the door and tiger lilies in the garden perhaps.” She leant on the broom, smiling dreamily at the conjured image. Angeline chuckled.

“Sounds like the perfect place for a young couple just starting out,” she said. Emily looked over at her and blinked a couple of times.

“S’cuse me?” she said.

“Well, I assumed that was why the two of you wanted a place of your own,” Angeline replied, “Emily, I may be old but I’m not senile. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not exactly a couple,” said Emily, scratching at the back of her neck, “I mean, we’re not. I mean I like her but…” She sat down on the stool by the counter. “I mean, she’s my best friend and I don’t want to risk anything wrecking that, y’know?”

“Well,” said Angeline sitting down on the opposite side of the counter, “You can tell me it’s not my place if you like, but I think you should tell her. You never know.”

“I know, you’re right,” Emily replied, “Maybe I will tell her someday.”

“Tell her what?” Serana asked from the doorway. She crossed the floor to where the two were sitting. Finn was perched on her shoulder, watching them as she joined them at the counter.

“Oh,” said Angeline, “I was…telling Emily that we need to have a word with Sybille Stentor. She told me she’d pay me by the end of the week for the five bags of taproots I sent up but so far nothing.”

“Oh, right,” Serana replied as she set Finn down on the counter, “Well, you can have a word with her when we go up to the palace then, Emily.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Angeline cut in, “It’s not urgent. I’ll go up on Morndas and have a word with her.” Serana watched as Angeline got up and carried the jars of bergamot seeds over to the shelves behind the counter. She glanced out of the window where the sky was turning a deep shade of orange. “How about we head up in another hour?” she said to Emily.

“Alright,” Emily replied, “I’ll just finish sweeping out, have a bath and then we’ll go.”

The sun had just set behind the mountains to the west when they left the shop, closing the door behind them. It was the coldest month of Evening Star and snow lay thick on the streets and gathered in drifts against the stone walls. Though vampires are resilient to the cold Emily and Serana elected to wear furs so as not to draw suspicion from the local populace.

“Rather nice out tonight, isn’t it?” said Emily as they passed through the market square. The stalls’ roofs were covered in a thin layer of snow and the counters had been swept clear to make room for that day’s merchandise. A couple of the stall holders had packed up early and retired to the Winking Skeever for a few pints of warm mead. Others had stuck around, unable to afford to do little else, and stood shivering, blowing on their hands in an attempt to keep warm while they waited hopefully for someone, anyone to show up.

“There’ll be another snow before the night’s over,” Serana replied, “Still want to live this far north?” She raised an eyebrow at the earthling.

“A little snow won’t kill us,” Emily smiled, “Hey, not getting cold feet, are you? Or does the thought of nights alone with me frighten you?” At these words Serana laughed.

“Emily, you couldn’t frighten a mudcrab,” she said, resting a hand on Emily’s shoulder as they passed beneath the stone bridge that marked the divide between the trading and residential areas of Solitude, “But I think you might want to prepare yourself for disappointment. It’s very unlikely we’ll just find somewhere like that.” She clicked her fingers to illustrate her point.

“Well, nothing beats a try,” Emily replied, shrugging her shoulders, “And hey, if no one will sell us a house we’ll just build our own. How hard can it be?”

“Very,” said Serana, “We’d have to get the lumber and learn the carpenter’s trade. Make sure there are no chinks in the roof to let sunlight through, whitewash it to protect the wood from the elements, probably learn a bit of smithing too to craft the nails and hinges we’ll need, need I go on?” Emily paused in the snow.

“You always have to spoil everything, don’t you?” she said in mock exasperation.

“Just facts, Em,” Serana replied, “I’m just saying we might have a long wait ahead of us.”

“Well, Angeline said we can stay as long as we need,” said Emily, catching up to her as they walked up the hill towards the Blue Palace. With its roofs and towers bedecked with snow it looked, to Emily, quite festive and wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Christmas card with its windows glowing warmly against the dark of the night. A guard stood on either side of the main doors and put out a hand to stop them as they approached.

“State your business,” he said. His armour left his arms bare and Emily found herself wondering how on earth he managed to brave the cold winds that swept through the streets and down towards the palace.

“We’d like to speak to the Jarl’s steward,” Emily replied, “About housing.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the guard asked.

“I...no, we don’t,” said Emily, “Is there any chance he could spare a few minutes?” The guard huffed a sigh of annoyance and turned to the door, pushing it open. They heard him conversing with someone on the far side of the door. Then he turned back to face them.

“Go on then,” he said, “But be quick about it.” They were about to cross the threshold when they heard hurried footsteps. The guard put up a hand to stop whoever it was but they ignored him and pushed past Emily with a mumbled apology. The guard rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself about the rabble he had to put up with and returned to his post. Serana and Emily followed the stranger inside. By the time the door had closed behind them the stranger had disappeared up a flight of stone steps at the far end of the hall.

“What was all that about?” asked Emily as they walked along the lavish carpets that decorated the main hall.

“No idea,” Serana replied. They reached the same stone steps and climbed them to the upper floor. The palace was exactly as Emily remembered it but now there was only one throne standing against the far wall where once there had been two. Seated on the throne was Elisif the Fair, Jarl of Solitude. She was dressed in robes reserved purely for nobility and wore a gold and ruby circlet upon her head. Her face was stronger, sterner than she remembered and it seemed that her husband’s death had only strengthened her resolve. She sat resolutely on her throne but showed a flicker of surprise when she saw the stranger kneel briefly before her in respect. It was evident that his arrival had not been planned.

“My Jarl, Dragon Bridge begs for your assistance,” he said, “It’s about Wolfskull Cave.” The steward was about to say something to the stranger but Jarl Elisif shook her head and signaled for the man to continue.

“People have been going missing,” he said, “Only last week a fur trader was due to arrive from Solitude. Odd lights were spotted coming from the hills the night before he was due to arrive. And then nothing, he never showed up.” The Jarl waited patiently as the man continued. “There have been strange noises too,” he said, “The Blacksmith’s son was up near the cave chopping wood when he heard strange chanting. I fear there’s some kind of dark magic going on there.”

“Then we will of course send out a legion to scour the cave and secure the town,” replied the Jarl to the dismay of her steward who had stopped midway through writing something down in a book he was carrying and he looked over at the woman wearing flowing blue robes, gauging her reaction in all this, “Haafingar’s people will always be safe under my rule.” The stranger bowed again as he spoke.

“Thank you, thank you, Jarl Elisif.”

Then the woman in the flowing blue robes spoke up, cutting across the stranger’s last words.

“Your eminence,” she said flatly, “My scrying has suggested nothing in the area. Dragon Bridge is already under Imperial control and this is likely superstitious nonsense. A farmer’s tale or two and no more.” Emily noticed Serana looking hard at the woman and the slight tension creeping into her shoulders.

“What is it?” Emily asked in a voice that was barely a whisper but one she knew the vampiress would hear.

“She’s one of us,” Serana whispered back. Emily looked at the woman but she looked no different to when she had last seen her.

“Perhaps…a more tempered reaction…might be called for,” said the steward tentatively. The Jarl considered his words for a moment.

“Very well,” she said at last, “Tell Captain Aldis I said to assign a few extra soldiers to Dragon Bridge.” The stranger had lost the relief in his voice when next he spoke.

“Thank you, Jarl Elisif,” he said, “But what about the cave?”

“I will have someone take care of the cave,” the steward assured him, “You can rest easy. You are dismissed.” The stranger lingered a moment longer before the Jarl, evidently hoping something more might be said before turning on his heel and heading for the stairs. The steward sat back down on a chair near the window and took up the book and quill once more. He looked up again when Serana and Emily stopped before the table.

“Can I help you?” he asked, setting down the book on the table.

“We’re hoping so,” Emily replied, “My friend and I would like to buy a house. We’ve been putting the money together but we don’t know if there’s any property available. Could you tell us perhaps?”

“None in the city I’m afraid,” the steward replied, “Proudspire was bought up only last month. Some wealthy general in the legion I believe. What kind of a property did you have in mind?” Emily looked over at Serana.

“Someplace out in the wilds,” she said, “In the forest, away from it all.”

“And what’s your price range?” asked the steward.

“Anything around six thousand septims,” Serana replied. The steward scratched at his beard, looking briefly down at the book where it lay open on the table.

“I don’t know of anywhere in Haafingar that fits your needs then,” he said. Emily frowned, looking down at the floor. It seemed Serana was right.

“But,” the steward continued. Emily looked up, “I have contacts outside the city I could talk to if you would be willing to offer your services to the court.”

“What kind of services?” Emily asked.

“I’m sure you witnessed our good friend Varnius appealing to the court concerning Wolfskull Cave,” he said, “He’s a bit jumpy at the best of times but I think it would be better if someone looked into it. Would you be willing to do that for me?”

“Where’s Wolfskull Cave?” Emily asked.

“It’s at the top of the road leading up into the hills just before you reach Dragon Bridge,” the steward replied, “I don’t suspect anything big but it would still pay to be prepared.”

“What do you think?” Emily asked, turning to Serana.

“Couldn’t do any harm to have a look,” she replied, “It’s been a while since we had a decent adventure.”

“Alright,” Emily said, turning back to the steward, “We’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” the steward replied, “I’ll pay you for your trouble when you return.”

They left the castle and stood at the top of the hill overlooking the rest of Solitude’s residential district.

“So, shall we head out now?” Emily asked.

“That would probably be best,” Serana replied, “We could be back by tomorrow night.”

“Serana,” Emily asked as they walked back through the streets of Solitude, “How could you tell? About Sybille? How did you know she’s one of us?”

“Well, if the eyes weren’t a big enough giveaway,” Serana replied, “It’s something in her manner. A certain domineering power, something all vampires have.”

“All vampires?” Emily asked, smiling and quirking an eyebrow at her companion, “Domineering? Not something I’ve noticed with you.” Serana smiled.

“Well, maybe you just had a good influence on me,” she replied.

“You give me far too much credit,” said Emily, still smiling. They reached the gate and, after speaking with the guard, passed through. They travelled some distance from the town before Emily summoned Arvak. They climbed on and set out into the Haafingar wilderness. The night was quiet, buried under the muffled blanket of snow that coated the roads and trees. Frost glittered on the bark and the rocks that lay just off the road. The sky above was beginning to cloud over, promising the snow Serana had mentioned. Before they had reached the crossroads the first flakes had begun to fall and swirled about them as they rode up the hill towards the cave. They got down off the horse some distance from the top of the hill and Emily tethered him to a tree just off the road. She pulled Auriel’s bow from her back as they advanced along the road. The road was silent save for the winds that blew down from Mount Kilkreath and the howl of a lone wolf far in the distance. Their night eyes scanned the area ahead of them and came to rest on something shambling in the shadows. Emily nocked an arrow and waited, watching. Whatever it was, was moving between the trees that grew close together near the entrance of the cave which was little more than a hole in the rock. Then a thin beam of moonlight broke through the cloud and shone down on the copse. It glowed on bone, clean and white and Emily saw the two pinpricks of blue light that marked the skeleton’s eyes. Emily loosed the arrow which whistled through the air, striking the skeleton in the middle of its ribcage. The bones, released from their magic bindings, scattered to the earth as the lights in the skull dimmed. Serana watched as another skeleton came to check on the first. Then it looked in their direction and its jaw opened in a soundless cry as it drew a blade and advanced on them. Serana drew her dagger and ran out into the clearing. The blade flashed in her hand and then the skeleton was no more.

They crept close to the mouth of the cave, listening. From the depths they heard voices. Emily could not catch what they were saying but it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Necromancers,” said Serana. They crept inside and followed the tunnels down. They were lit by lanterns perched on rocks and hanging from ropes stretched between stone pillars. A discarded iron battle-axe lay next to one of the lanterns and it clanked as Emily’s boot nudged it out of the way. Dust skittered down from the ceiling and Emily felt the weight of the rock pressing down on them from above as they went deeper. The tunnels opened out into a small room, mostly empty save for the wooden handcart loaded up with rocks. Then Emily flattened herself against one of the rocks as a new sound met her ears. It was breathing, gurgling and ragged. It was a sound she’d heard before in the depths of Dimhollow and in the Castle Volkihar Undercroft: Draugr.

“Should’ve guessed they’d get someone else to do their dirty work,” muttered Serana, indicating the cart. Emily nocked an arrow and stepped out from behind the pillar, advancing towards the mouth of the tunnel the breathing was coming from. Then she saw it, garbed in rotting leathers and wielding a formidable looking battle-axe. When it saw her it roared at her in guttural tones. Her arrow left the bow and whistled through the air, embedding itself in the draugr’s chest. The draugr growled, reeling before shambling towards her, raising the battle-axe above its head. Emily swapped the bow for her dagger and ran at the draugr. She darted to one side as the battle-axe was brought down, crashing against the stones and sending up a shower of sparks. She took the opening and plunged the dagger into the draugr’s chest. It roared in a mixture of fury and pain as it struggled with Emily, dropping the battle-axe as it tried to claw at her face. She hung on like grim death until its movements became feebler and it collapsed to the ground. But in the wake of its silence came voices from further down the corridor. She heard running footsteps and two mages in black robes appeared at the end of the tunnel ahead. Ice flashed on their fingertips and surged towards them. The ice struck Emily in the chest, pushing her backward. She braced herself against it as the second mage joined the fray. Serana raised a ward, running at the second mage who had a dagger raised, brandishing it at her. He lunged and she sidestepped, bring her dagger up towards his chest. He parried the blow and lunged again. Again and again the daggers clashed, sending off cascades of sparks. He dodged another blow aimed at his neck and Serana saw an opening, kicking him in the stomach. He stumbled back and she seized the opportunity to plunge the dagger into his chest.

Emily, coated from head to foot in frost turned away from the prone form of the first mage. There was a deep knife wound in the mage's back and the last dying waves of ice still danced around her fingertips. She shook off the worst of the frost before heading towards the tunnel the mages had come from. It brought them to a crudely constructed campsite which stood just outside the door to a buried stone fort. A campfire crackled in one corner surrounded by several logs and the paltry remains of their meal.

“This fort must be ancient,” said Emily as she rested a hand on one of the stone walls, “How long do you think it’s been buried like this?”

“It could easily be hundreds of years if not thousands,” Serana replied, “I don’t remember reading anything about a Fort this close to Mount Kilkreath. We’d better be careful, I don’t know what’s down there.”

They pulled open the door and slipped through. It creaked horribly as it was pulled open and they froze in place for a moment, watching the path ahead. When nothing stirred they moved on. Inside the fort the stones gave way to packed ice and the temperature dropped sharply. The ice crunched under their boots as they made their way towards an area where the tunnel opened out once more. In the centre of the cave there was a hole in the ground through which a howling wind blew. Faint moonlight shone down through a hole in the ceiling, lending the cave an eerie unearthly glow. A few scrawny plants grew around the edges of the cave and lichen grew on the walls. They strode over towards the hole in the ground and looked down.

“Looks like that’s our way forward,” said Emily, reaching into her bag and pulling out a length of rope. She tied it around a sturdy looking rock and stood with her back to the hole. “Ready?” she asked the vampiress. Serana nodded and Emily glanced briefly over her shoulder before leaping backwards down the hole. The rope pulled taut, stopping her descent abruptly and she swung slowly to and fro. She listened but heard nothing but the wind and the whisper of branches bending before it. She hopped down off the rope onto the pile of rubble that littered the floor. Serana climbed down the rope after her and together they made their way down the tunnel. It was lit by torches and brought them down to a vast cavern. They saw the blue tendrils of light snaking ahead of them and looked around them in awe as they emerged from the tunnel. Sitting at the heart of the cavern was a stone fortress and at the summit of the tallest tower floated a glowing white figure.

“What is that?” Emily asked. Before Serana could reply a voice rang out from the tower, shattering the stillness.

“Wolf Queen. Hear our call and awaken. We summon Potema.” This voice was answered by several others all intoning the words, “We summon Potema.” Serana and Emily looked at one another. Emily had heard of the Wolf Queen. Entire volumes had been written on her wicked deeds during her time as Queen of Solitude.

“Long have you slept the dreamless sleep of death, Potema. Hear us Wolf Queen! We summon you!”

“We summon Potema!” they intoned.

“That’s not good,” said Serana under her breath, “Come on.” They left the ledge on which they stood and followed a tunnel which led further down into the cavern. Ahead of them Serana could see the shadow of another mage reflected upon the far wall. A brazier burned close by, doing little to warm the cave and the mage was rubbing his hands together in a vain attempt to keep warm.

“Now might be a good time to test out that invisibility spell of yours,” whispered Serana. Emily nodded, taking Serana’s hand. She, closed her eyes and felt that strange, fuzzy, unreal feeling come over her, spreading out from her head and down her body. When she opened her eyes both she and Serana had vanished, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air. They crept down over the ledge and dropped quietly to the floor below, leaving the room behind. Emily looked back over her shoulder to check that the mage was still standing by the brazier.

“Emily,” Serana hissed. Emily quickly turned back as she bumped into a column of bones hanging from the ceiling. They rattled and the two of them froze as they heard the mage step away from the brazier, conjuring ice on his palms.

“What was that?” they heard him say as he reached the mouth of the tunnel. Serana released Emily’s hand, reaching for her blade. The spell broke as she leapt at him, plunging the dagger into his chest. He crumpled to the earth and Serana re-joined Emily.

“I’d hoped we could’ve avoided that,” she said under her breath. She slipped past Emily and they carried on down the tunnel. They crept down the stone steps on the far side, keeping to the shadows to avoid the draugr patrolling the area and into the doorway of the nearest stone tower. From here they climbed the spiral stone steps, stopping to listen every few steps. As they neared the top they heard the same rasping breathing they had heard in the tunnel near the cave’s entrance. Emily nocked an arrow and climbed slowly up the remaining steps. The draugr stood in the centre of the room, seemingly with nothing to occupy its attention. Above it, hanging from a rope, was an oil lamp. It dripped steadily and she noticed the floor beneath it was covered in a thin film of oil. Rather than aiming for the draugr Emily aimed for the lamp. The draugr looked up in time with a menacing growl as the arrow struck the lamp and it fell from its lofty perch. With the sound of shattering earthenware it exploded and flames leapt across the floor, engulfing the draugr. Its dry, cracked skin burst into flames and it staggered back, crashing into the wall as it dropped its blade. Then it collapsed in a heap as the flames leapt across its still form. The smell was horrific and they moved swiftly out of the tower.

Their journey took them up yet more stone steps that led up to the higher reaches. As they neared the top of the flight of stairs there was a flash of light as the figure at the summit of the tower doubled in brightness and a voice rang out across the cavern, shaking the very rocks.

“Yes! Yes! return me to this realm!”

“Well, she sounds like she’s enjoying that power a bit too much,” Emily muttered. This earned her a nudge from her companion.

“I’d take this a bit more seriously if I were you,” Serana replied, “She could turn you into a worm if she chose.”

“Eugh,” said Emily, squirming at the thought.

“As our voices summon you the blood of the innocent binds you, Wolf Queen,” intoned the voice of a woman.

“Summoned with words, bound by blood,” said the other mages partaking in the ritual. At this the voice of the Wolf Queen bloomed into ferocity and the spirit floating above the tower blazed with fury.

“What!” she yelled, “What are you doing?! You fools! You cannot bind _me_ to your wills!” But the mages paid her no heed and merely repeated their mantra. The Wolf Queen roared her disapproval, “You ants don’t have the power to bind me!”

At the top of the tower the ritual master paused in her chanting. “Jogrolf, check the stairs, I think we have an intruder.” One of the necromancers broke away from the ritual and went to the stairs, drawing his dagger. He saw the two vampires approaching from below.

“Intruders,” he bellowed before readying an ice spell on his right hand. Three of the mages broke from the ritual and joined him at the top of the stairs. Emily brought up a ward and together they ran at the mages. Emily parried a blow from the first and ducked to dodge a second blow. She struggled to keep her balance and lunged forwards, slashing at the legs of one of them. He yelled and toppled backwards as another of them brought down his dagger, aiming for her unprotected back. Serana launched an ice spike, catching the offending mage in his stomach and sending him reeling back against the altar where he cracked his head on the side of it.

Emily ran up the last few steps, knocking back the first mage whose legs she’d slashed at. He hobbled back against the altar next to his fallen comrade. The ritual master had broken contact with the altar and now moved toward them, an ice spike readied on her palm.

“What is the matter with you fools?” she barked. She looked from the mage lying slumped in front of the altar and the one with the bleeding legs to the two who remained poised ready to attack. The Wolf Queen’s spirit hung suspended above them, half-bound. Serana readied a ward as the ritual master struck out with the ice spike. The ward shattered and Serana dodged to one side as she aimed a second. Emily lunged at one of the remaining mages. He launched an ice spike at her and Emily ducked, rolling to one side. The ice spike struck the mage struggling to stand next to the altar and the force knocked him back over the edge of the tower. Emily’s blade struck out, embedding itself in the mage’s shoulder. He let out a yell and staggered back, launching a bolt of lightning as he fell. The bolt struck Emily’s arm and she dropped the blade, clutching at her arm as every muscle twitched uncontrollably. Seizing his opportunity the mage swiped the dagger from the ground and aimed a blow at Emily.

Serana knocked Emily to one side, parrying the blow aimed for her head. The mage lunged again and Serana saw the opening, plunging her dagger into his chest. He dropped the dagger and Emily dodged around him, grabbing up the dagger and making for the ritual master who was advancing on them. A bolt of lightning struck the ground at Emily’s feet and she leapt to one side up onto the altar. She gritted her teeth as the energy pulsating from the altar charged through her, making her hair stand on end as though a great charge of electricity had rippled through her. Emily jumped and launched a bolt of her own at the elderly conjurer who conjured a ward. The bolt bounced harmlessly off it and Emily was forced to duck as it whizzed past her head. Serana turned away from the body of the mage and rounded on the Ritual Master. Together they advanced on the conjurer, forcing her back against the raised wooden bridge on the far side of the altar. They then hung back, just out of reach of her blade which she had pulled from her hip. When she loosed an ice spike from her palm Serana saw her chance, dashing towards her and plunging her dagger into her heart. The moment the blood gushed over her fingers there was a bright flash and an explosive blast of energy. They turned and watched as the light that was Potema’s spirit gathered above the altar. Then it began to drift towards one of the holes in the roof of the cavern, tendrils of blue light swirling about it. With one last rumble it fled up through the hole and was gone.

Silence now pervaded the cave, leaving Emily and Serana staring at the hole in the cavern ceiling, neither of them speaking. They stood like that for several minutes.

“Do you think we did it?” Emily asked at last, turning to face Serana. Blood was running down from a cut on her forehead but she ignored it.

“I hope so,” Serana replied. She looked up through the hole at the sky outside. “Come on, I think we’ve got time to get back to Solitude before sunrise.” Emily took one last look at the altar. It was engraved with a strange symbol resembling a wolf’s head with a mouthful of gnashing teeth and each of the grooves was filled with blood. Small braziers encircled it. Emily then hurried after Serana who was standing next to the raised bridge.

Emily pulled a lever and it lowered, allowing them to cross. They made their way down the steps on the far side and out through a wooden door. This door took them back towards the entrance of the cave and it was with relief that they set foot outside. The moons were still high in the sky as they crossed the cobblestones and made their way down the path to where they left Arvak. The snows had come and Arvak shook the snow from his bones when he saw their approach, swishing his tail of cold fire. Once they’d climbed up on his back they rode off back to Solitude. The journey back was markedly quiet and uneventful. Emily kept looking at the sky, half expecting the Wolf Queen to be riding the spectral winds but the sky was mostly clear with a few clouds scattered towards the North. She glanced at her watch. It was a little after four in the morning.

“Think we should just go straight to the steward or leave it until tonight?” she asked Serana.

“I think he needs to know about this,” Serana replied, “We’ll risk getting him out of bed.”

They reached the hill before the city and got down off Arvak’s back. Emily recalled him and they made their way down the hill and up towards the city. Luckily for them it was the same guard on duty and he let them back in after they told him they had urgent news for the steward. The streets of Solitude were silent and even the Winking Skeever had fallen still. They noticed a man in furs sleeping in one of the hay bales at the side of the Inn, a few empty bottles of mead scattered about him. There were lights on in most of the houses and garlands were strung from the eaves. Blue banners hung on either side of the door of the Winking Skeever, depicting a mistletoe plant and most doors were adorned with a wreath of snowberries. The New Life Festival was swift approaching and though the celebrations officially began in most of Tamriel on the 1st Morning Star the Breton populace and some of the Nords of Solitude chose to start the celebrations on the 25th Evening Star though the decorations appeared long before then. None of the merchants minded as it afforded them larger profits as the end of the year approached.

At last they reached the palace and after the guards let them through they waited in the foyer while Falk Firebeard was fetched from his bed. There was one other person standing in the foyer with them. He looked to be a man in his middle sixties, dressed in fine clothes and carrying a cane. He looked to be waiting for someone and his eyes were younger than his face, alive with a kind of child-like glee. Emily thought he looked rather out of place, even in the palace though for the life of her she couldn't put her finger on it. When she said as much to Serana she glanced over at the man and said he was probably a visiting Imperial noble. A few minutes later Falk Firebeard emerged, yawning, from his room on the upper floor. He looked as though he had dressed quickly and he descended the stairs and crossed the room to where they were standing.

“I didn’t expect you back this early in the morning,” he said, “Well, did you find anything?”

“We did,” Emily replied, “They were trying to resurrect and bind Potema.”

“They…they what?” said Falk Firebeard, all traces of tiredness vanishing from his face in an instant, “Who?”

“A group of necromancers,” Serana replied, “We don’t know what cult they belonged to but they looked like they’d been planning it for some time. There was an altar carved with the Wolf Queen’s symbol.”

“Please tell me you stopped them,” Falk said imploringly. Emily nodded.

“We did,” she replied, “Their leader and all their followers are dead.”

“And Potema?” asked Falk.

“Whatever they managed to summon fled,” Serana answered, “Whether it was Potema herself or a malevolent spirit masquerading as her, she’s gone.”

“Good,” he said, a note of relief evident in his voice, “You’ve done a larger service to the realm than you could possible know. A resurrected Potema.” He shuddered involuntarily. “Here, here’s the gold and I’ll send word to my contacts as promised. Thank you again.” He handed Emily and Serana a large pouchful of gold.

“Wow, there’s over a thousand septims in here,” said Emily as they left the palace, “This is great. We could get a nice…I dunno…firepit or alchemy lab or whatever it is the folks of Skyrim get with a big bag of gold.” Serana chuckled.

“How about a room to put all that worthless junk you keep picking up on our adventures?” she suggested.

“Worthless junk?” Emily replied, feigning a hurt expression, “You may call it junk, me? I call it treasure. Sold a good bit of it to Sayma the other night. I take it you won’t complain when I add the proceeds to our house fund?”

“Come on,” Serana laughed, “Let’s get back. The sun will be up soon and I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t mind a bath.”


	3. New Life

“Emily, could you give me a hand with these garlands?” Vivienne asked, struggling with the awkward task of trying to hang one above the door whilst keeping three more that were hanging from her shoulder from falling to the floor all the while keeping herself from falling from the small stepladder. The garlards were made from the intertwined branches of the Cyrodilic pine which was favoured for its vibrant green needles and small notched cones. Emily hurried over to her and took the three remaining garlands from her shoulder. The shop was abuzz with activity. Angeline had spent much of the morning baking Battaglir loaves and venison chops and Emily found herself wishing that she too could partake of the coming feast. But, she reminded herself, they had also ordered in several bottles of Evette Sans’ spiced wine and a fine bottle of Colovian brandy.

Emily strung the three remaining garlands along the front of the counter, tying them in place. “Do you two need any help in there?” she called through to the kitchen.

“I think we’ve got things under control,” Serana replied, “Why don’t you get the drinks from the cellar?” Emily finished tying the last garland in place and hurried down to the cellar. The bottles of spiced wine lay in a wooden crate near the bottom of the stairs and the large bottle of Colovian brandy lay just next to it. Weaving a small levitation charm on the brandy, Emily stooped to pick up the crate. The bottles clinked together as she made her way back up the stairs into the kitchen. The atmosphere was warm, a fire crackling in the grate. Finn was sitting on one of the stools, putting his paws up on the table as Emily set the crate down. He nudged one of the bottles and Emily moved the crate further onto the table, plucking the brandy bottle from the air and setting it down next to the crate.

“No, Finn,” she said, “We don’t want you getting drunk.”

“A drunk otter?” chuckled Angeline, “Now that would be a sight.” She took the iron pot from the fire and took off the lid. The rich aroma of stewing venison met their nostrils. “Are you still planning on going out tonight for the tree?” she asked Serana.

“So long as nothing unforeseen happens,” she replied, “We’ll head out around eight.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Angeline, “Beirand dropped by. He said we can have a lend of his axe. That old one of ours in the cellar has seen better days. I must take it up to him to get it sharpened again.”

“We’ll collect it before we go then,” said Emily, “Do you want us to drop off ours while we’re at it?”

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea,” Angeline replied. She wiped her hands on the cloth that hung by the door. “I’d better get the vegetables chopped. Vivienne, Jala said she’d hold over a few carrots and apples for us. Do you think you could run over to the market and fetch them?”

“I’ll head over in a couple of minutes,” Vivienne replied.

Angeline, Emily and Serana took a seat by the fire.

“Have you heard anything more from Falk Firebeard?” Angeline asked.

“Nothing yet,” Emily replied, “I think when the new year comes around we’ll have to strike out on our own. Maybe see if any of the other holds have anything to offer.”

“How about Whiterun?” Serana suggested, “Close to the centre, not too cold. A good place for growing alchemical plants.” Angeline shook her head.

“Too dangerous,” she said, “The Stormcloaks are rumoured to be gathering there. Preparing to mount a full scale attack by all accounts. That’s where my Fura was stationed.”

“Have you heard anything more from her?” Emily asked.

“She sent me a letter last month,” Angeline replied, “She’s been sent on a scouting patrol. Apparently a farmer living close to the Pale border saw a group of them retreating towards some old ruins. Probably holed up in there, the cowards.” It was rare for Angeline’s voice to take on such a prickly tone. Her daughter had left to join the legion long before Emily arrived in Skyrim and she longed for the day when the Stormcloaks were defeated and her daughter could come home. Each new day brought fear with it, fear that today would be the day she would hear the news all mothers dread to hear. “No, you’d be better trying somewhere further south,” she continued, “Apparently they haven’t bothered with Falkreath much. Dawnstar and Morthal haven’t seen much trouble either but you won’t get much growing there.”

“Well, we’ll see what the new year brings in any case,” said Emily, taking a draft from a bottle of mead lying on the table. She looked over at the fire whose flames were diminishing. A few of the embers had spilled out of the grate and glowed red against the stone floor.

“Fire’s getting a bit low,” she said as she got up from the table and made for the cellar, “I’ll fetch up some more firewood.”

* * *

The sun had set behind the mountains to the west when Serana and Emily left the Alchemists, closing the door behind them. They were dressed in furs and Emily carried the blunt old axe she’d fetched from the cellar. It had, as Angeline said, seen better days. The blade had dulled entirely and the handle was chipped in places. They carried it up the twisting slope that led towards Castle Dour and the town smithy. Beirand was still at the forge, hammering out an Imperial breastplate. He was a tall stout man whose face was ruddy from working the forge. He wore an apron spotted with burns and carried a steel mace. He looked up and smiled when he saw them.

“You girls here for the axe?” he asked.

“That’s us,” Emily replied.

“It’s over there in the corner,” said Beirand, gesturing to an axe with a carved wooden handle and a sharp-looking steel axe head.

“Would you be able to sharpen Angeline’s old axe when you have the time?” Emily asked.

“If you leave it here, I’ll see to it in the morning and have it round to her by lunch,” Beirand replied. Emily thanked him and left the axe on the wooden table by the forge and picked up Beirand's axe, securing it at her hip.

They left the city and made their way down the cobblestone road. The horizon was a deep russet red and the first stars were beginning to peek out from the velvet blue of the night sky. The ferns whispered with a slight breeze coming up from the docks and the leaves on the trees rustled.

“So, where did you have in mind?” Emily asked.

“There are some good small pines up in the North past Kilkreath,” Serana replied, “One of them should fit in the shop.”

“It’s all rather like Christmas, this,” said Emily, “Decorating trees, feasts, wine. All we’re missing is a visit from Santa Claus.”

“Who?” Serana asked.

“Santa Claus,” Emily replied, “Or Saint Nicholas as he was sometimes known. He brought presents to all the good children of the world and he travelled in a magic flying sleigh pulled by a team of reindeer.”

“I thought magic didn’t exist on earth,” said Serana.

“It doesn’t,” Emily replied, “It was just a story parents told their kids to make the holidays more fun. And it means the kids get extra presents so they don’t tend to mind. Is gift giving a New Life tradition as well?”

“It can be,” said Serana, “Different cultures in Tamriel celebrate it in different ways.”

They followed the road north up into the hills. Overhead towered Mount Kilkreath, its snow capped peak obscured by clouds. They spotted two mountain goats on the path ahead, nibbling on tussocks of grass poking through the snow just off the road. They looked up when Emily’s boot sent a stone skittering loose and it tumbled back down the hill. They watched them for a moment, chewing on the grass stalks before bolting into the undergrowth. At this point Emily and Serana left the path and followed a game trail through the undergrowth. The long grass brushed against their legs and snow fell in small clumps from the fir branches as they pushed past them. A snowy owl hooted from one of the lofty branches overhead and in the undergrowth a dog fox gave out his piercing cry.

As they went deeper a new sound met Serana’s ears. It was a slow steady sound, of water lapping against the earth of an embankment. The wind changed direction and a rippling sound drifted towards them through the dark undergrowth. It was the sound of a pond, relatively deep by the sound of it. Emily too, it seemed, was listening, her head tilted to one side.

“Is there a lake somewhere around here?” she asked.

“A pond certainly,” Serana replied. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she turned to Emily. Emily smiled back as she took a step towards her.

“What are you grinning at?” she asked.

“How about I teach you a different New Life tradition?” Serana asked.

“Huh?” said Emily. She felt Serana take hold of her hand.

“Come on,” she said, tugging her towards the undergrowth. Emily followed her between the bushes and trees, following a small trail thick with tree roots. Serana was laughing, a light musical sound, a sound that made her heart leap every time she heard it. She wondered what had so amused the vampiress and found herself laughing too. The trail wound, twisting and turning between the trees but this did little to slow Serana. The sound of the pond grew louder until they burst through the undergrowth and found themselves standing at its edge. It was larger than either of them had expected and looked to be several feet deep in places. Emily looked into the cold depths, at the pine needles floating on the surface and the moonlight scattered across the ripples.

She looked to Serana whose hands had moved to her cloak and were unfastening the buckle. She removed it and hung it from a branch. “You’re not about to suggest what I think you’re about to suggest, are you?” she asked. Serana flashed an impish smile at her.

“Yep, you are,” Emily continued, “So, how does this fit in with the New Life festival?”

“It’s called the Snow Bear plunge,” Serana replied, “We’re going to need a fire first, to dry off afterward.”

“So, we jump into the freezing waters,” said Emily as she helped Serana gather together branches and twigs. Serana nodded.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve jumped into freezing water for you,” Emily continued. Then she hesitated.

“Wait, we haven’t brought any swim clothes though,” she pointed out.

“You won’t need them,” Serana replied. At these words Emily was rather glad of being a vampire else her face would have been turning as red as a snowberry at the thought. The inability to blush, she decided, could be rather handy at times. She knelt by the pile of kindling and took a piece of flint and steel from her pack. They’d gathered the husk from an abandoned beehive and it was this that formed the nest of tinder which the first sparks landed in, twisting the fibres in on themselves as smoke started to curl up into the night air. Emily blew on the tinder until small flames appeared in the centre of the tinder and she set it down among the kindling. Before long they had a sizeable fire going. She looked over in time to see a red shirt land next to a pair of boots. Serana made her way over to a clump of reeds which grew thick around the water’s edge. Here she removed her breeches, tossing them over near the fire.

Emily heard a splash and the water lapped against the shores. She looked over at the pond where the surface had been broken and a few bubbles drifted towards the surface. Then the surface broke again near the edge and Serana emerged, head and shoulders above the pond’s surface. She rested her elbows against the steep bank. Her hair hung down on either side of her face, out of its usual braids. Emily sat down by the lake’s edge.

“I’m surprised, you know,” she said, “After all the complaining you do about the rain you find fun in jumping into a freezing pond with no clothes on.” She dodged a splash of water aimed at her.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Serana asked. She leant her head on her arms, looking over at the Earthling.

“Maybe,” Emily replied. She looked at the water, “But only if you don’t look while I’m jumping in, alright?”

“Would I do that?” said Serana with a slight chuckle. Emily got up and crossed over to the reeds.

“Is it deep?” she asked as she pulled off her boots.

“Deep enough,” Serana replied, “But I wouldn’t recommend diving in head first.” Emily got in amongst the reeds. They tickled her bare skin and rustled in the breeze blowing in over the pond. Serana was patiently awaiting her, watching the campfire. A sudden thought struck Emily and she ducked down among the reeds. The movement caught Serana’s eye and she looked over at the patch of reeds. Suddenly they burst apart and the next second a large splash erupted as though something sizeable had been thrown into the pond. But there was nothing to be seen. A trail of bubbles snaked across the pond toward her and an invisible form broke the surface before her, slowly regaining visibility and revealing the impish face of her companion, water dripping from her blonde hair.

“Alright, we’re in the water, now what?” she asked. She was answered by a splash which caught her off guard and she wound up with a mouthful of pondwater. Serana was shaking with silent laughter. Emily spat out the water, blinked a few times before narrowing her eyes at her companion. Then she sent a splash of water her way. The still night air gave way to the sounds of splashing, squeaks and laughter. Emily dove down beneath the surface, swimming towards the vampiress and catching her around the waist. Serana let out a yelp and Emily resurfaced, only to be met with a small wave. She shook her head, sending water droplets cascading down.

Some time later they hauled themselves out of the pond and lay down by the fire. Serana had brought a couple of old pelts with them which they lay under, looking up at the night sky. The aurora stretched across the black velvet of the sky and stars winked out at them. Emily turned over on her side. Serana was looking up at the sky but looked over at her when she felt her gaze.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in months,” she said.

“Most fun you can have with your clothes on?” Emily asked. Serana gave her a puzzled look.

“But we didn’t have any clothes on,” she replied. Emily waved her hand.

“Nah, never mind,” she said, “It’s an Earth-ism.” She leant on her elbow, “We should do this more often. It was fun.” Serana smiled. They lay on for several more minutes, enjoying the warmth of the fire and listening to the noises of the night creatures.

“So, what’s the story behind the Snow Bear plunge?” Emily asked.

“No story really,” Serana replied, “It’s a tradition among the Nords to show they don’t fear what the cold brings as at the end of a winter’s journey is a warm fire, good mead and good company. I spent some time reading up on Nordic holidays when I was young.”

“What do you mean, ‘when you were young’?” Emily grinned, reaching for her hand, “You’re still young.” Serana smiled.

“I’m over a thousand years old,” she replied.

“You’re only as old as you feel, Sera,” said Emily.” Serana squeezed her fingers. “How do you feel?” asked Emily. Serana sighed, turning over to face her.

“Wet,” she considered, “Maybe a bit cool from the breeze.” She smiled. “And happy.” Emily smiled back.

Some time later, when the fire had warmed them through, Emily sat up, holding the pelt to her chest.

“I guess we should think about getting that tree,” she said. Serana sat up.

“Yeah, I suppose we should,” she replied, “Could you pass me my shirt?” Emily leant over and picked up Serana’s shirt from its place by the fire and handed it to her.

Once they’d dressed they left the pond and stepped through the thicket in search of a suitable tree. Some were too tall, others looked as though a bear had been at them which, Emily reminded herself, they probably had. At last they came to a clearing with a tree at its centre. It was about six feet tall, the perfect height.

“How about this one?” Emily asked, pointing to the tree.

“Looks good to me,” Serana replied. Emily took up the axe and began chopping at the thick trunk. The tree shuddered, a few needles drifting down from its branches with each chop. Then at last, it fell with a crash. Emily hooked the axe back onto her belt.

“Well, let’s get this back,” she said, rubbing her hands together before picking up one end of the large tree. Serana hefted the other end up onto her shoulder and they began the journey back to Solitude. It took them just under two hours before they reached the road that would take them back up to the city. The smell of woodsmoke drifted up from the chimneys of the farm buildings down off the road and the fire at the top at the sentry tower had been lit to provide the guards on duty with a source of heat. The tree's branches brushed against the cobblestones as they climbed the hill to the town gates and the guard opened them, allowing them to pass through.

“Happy New Life,” said one of the guards as they passed.

They reached the shop and Emily hefted the tree over to her other shoulder while she reached into her pocket and pulled out the key. She unlocked the door and together they pulled the tree indoors.

Angeline was still sitting by the fire and she looked up when she saw the large tree squeezing in through the front doors. She got up and helped them drag it into the back room where she’d prepared a large pot of earth for it to sit in.

“You picked a fine tree,” she said as they stood the tree upright in the pot and started to pack the dirt in around it. She wiped her hands on her apron. “I saw Irnskar and Bolgeir carrying a tree up to the Blue Palace this afternoon. I’m glad to see Jarl Elisif taking part in the festivities. It’s good to smile in the face of adversity.”

“The Empire will win, won’t it?” Emily asked as she summoned orbs of light and guided them into place on the tree.

“I hope so,” Angeline replied, “General Tullius has kept them from this hold so far and from what I hear Whiterun is still neutral. I don’t know of any of the other holds though but I expect ‘he’ has followers in most of them.” Emily knew who, ‘he’ was. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, who had ridden into town when she’d been in Skyrim less than a week and murdered the High King with the Nord power of the Thu’um. Emily initially had felt no strong compulsions towards either side in the war. Quite honestly she still wasn’t sure where exactly she stood. Each side had its motives and its faults, be they a deep rooted prejudice for all non-natives or stripping their people of the right to worship as they saw fit. She and Serana had talked about it before and it did not surprise her when Serana showed little interest in the Civil War. In the end Emily found herself leaning subconsciously more towards the Empire, both because they were in charge of the city she, for the moment at least, called home and because they seemed more tolerant of outsiders than the Stormcloaks. And she, she considered, was the ultimate outsider.

Serana summoned small beads of red light, trailing them across the tree while Angeline hung small ornamental bells from the boughs.

“There,” she said, taking a step back, “Done.” She looked over at Emily and Serana. “Was it raining out there in the forest?” she asked, looking at their dripping wet hair.

“No, we decided to go for a swim,” Emily replied.

“A swim?” Angeline repeated, “You girls must be mad. It’s freezing out there.”

“We were taking the snow bear plunge,” Emily explained, “We’re fine.”

“You young'uns,” said Angeline, shaking her head, “It's as well I put some fresh towels up in your room this evening.”

Emily and Serana climbed the stairs to their room. The towels were lying out next to the bed and Emily took one up, toweling her hair dry. Serana sat down on the edge of the bed and took up her brush.

“So,” said Emily as she flopped down next to her, “When shall we take the plunge again? How about we try the sea next time?” Serana laughed.

“I think the sea might be a little too cold,” she replied, “Even for us.” Emily sat behind her as she began to braid her hair, braiding it back into the plaits she always wore them in.

“Well, how about a lake then?” she asked. Serana turned her head, looking over her shoulder at the Earthling.

“Alright,” she replied, “And in return, why don’t you show me some Earth traditions?”

“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” said Emily, “But rest first, right?”

“Right,” Serana replied. Emily tied together the four braids at the back of her head and sat back on the bed. Serana took a book from her pack and leant up with her back to the wall to read. Emily lay down next to her, curling up against the pillow. Finn curled up between them, putting his tail over his nose. After all this time this was a part of vampirism that Emily still felt was strange. When the day was beginning outside and the streets became noisy with chatter, unless they were helping Angeline in the shop they would retire to their room, either to sleep or to read and to talk. It was during these times that Serana would catch up on reading, be it the formula of a spell or a Breton epic she’d found in Angeline’s sitting room. Emily was more given to drawing and she had procured from the general store several sheets of paper. Her sketchbook she’d brought with her from earth was long since filled and she dreaded when she ran out of pencils. Quills and ink were not easy to draw with and charcoal was harder still.

But today she favoured the idea of sleeping. Come nightfall the New Life celebrations would begin in earnest and those bottles of spiced wine would be opened and the venison steaks consumed. After that the potage le magnifique would follow. Angeline had got the recipe from a new cookbook she’d picked up at the market. Apparently it was something of a hit across Skyrim and it was reaching over into the countries of High Rock to the west and Cyrodiil to the south. Emily felt mild regret at not being able to partake of such an exotic Breton dish. But at least they would not have to hunt tonight. They still had six bottles stashed away under the bed so it would be another two nights before their next hunt. Emily yawned, nestling into the pillow as sleep overtook her.

* * *

It was early in the evening when she woke and she felt the presence of Serana next to her. She had since put down her book and was dozing peacefully against the pillow, chest rising and falling gently. Emily stretched, reveling in the peace which she was still getting used to. So many weeks in the months previous they’d spent running. The kind of peace she’d felt on earth most days of her life and now in the city walls almost seemed alien to her these days.

As she sat up she felt Serana stir.

“Is it nightfall already?” she asked, sitting up and stretching.

“Sun’s just set,” Emily replied. She knelt on the bed and drew back the curtains. Outside the streets were thick with snow and festoons and banners hung from every building. Wreaths hung on every door and small balls of magelight had been spirited up around the tree in the square. She rested her arms on the windowsill.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.

“You used to be able to see Solitude from the Castle,” Serana replied, “But never like this. You said this was like Christmas. What sorts of things did you do on Christmas?”

“Well, we’d get a turkey and have it with brussel sprouts and cranberry sauce,” said Emily, “Are there turkeys in Tamriel?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Serana replied, “No brussel sprouts or cranberries either.”

“Well, turkey is a kind of large bird, brussel sprouts look like tiny cabbages and taste kind of bitter but in a nice way and cranberries are sharp tasting red berries,” Emily explained, “We’d have this traditional meal on Christmas Day along with snacks of all kinds. Often we’d be eating it as leftovers for a few days to come.”

“And what else did you do?” Serana asked.

“Well, we would swap tales, drink wine, open presents and kiss under the mistletoe,” Emily replied.

“Why mistletoe?” Serana asked.

“I don’t know,” Emily replied, “That was just how the tradition always went. If two people were under the mistletoe at the same time they would kiss.” She sat up straighter. “That reminds me, I’ve got to get over to the store for a couple of things,” she got up and hurriedly pulled on her cloak, “See you in a bit.” And with that she bolted from the room and hurried down the stairs two at a time. She grabbed up her purse from behind the counter and dashed out into the street. Much of the snow had been compacted by the day’s activity and was slippery underfoot. She made her way across the street to the general store.

“Oh, hello Emily,” said Sayma as she glanced over her shoulder when she heard the door open. She finished putting the stack of wooden bowls up on the shelf and climbed back down off the short stepladder. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I’d like to get something special for my friend,” Emily explained, “But I’m not really sure what to get.”

“If you want to impress the lady,” came a voice from behind her. She whirled around to see the well dressed man she’d spotted in the palace standing behind her, “Ye get her a staff. As it happens I have one I might be willing to part with for the right price.” He had appeared so silently and suddenly that as far as Emily was concerned he might have popped up out of the ground. She noted that Sayma’s reaction was similar to her own.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said, “But my friend’s not exactly big on staffs.”

“Oh, I guess that’s why she has her eye on you then,” said the stranger, leaning on his cane. Emily thought this a rather strange remark but knew better than to say so. And now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember mentioning that this gift was to be for a woman.

“Well, in that case, ye might as well go for jewellery,” he said, “I once gave a necklace to a girl I was courting at the time, a beautiful necklace it was decorated with cat’s eyes.” He shifted his weight on his cane.

“She didn’t like it much,” he continued, “And I thought later that maybe I shouldn’t have made it from actual cat’s eyes.” Emily looked at the strange old man, not sure what to say. It was Sayma who broke the silence, clearing her throat.

“Well, a necklace does sound like a good idea,” she said, “I’ve got a few in the shop if you’d like to take a look.” Emily waited patiently at the counter while Sayma went to the back room to retrieve the necklace display. When she returned she looked over Emily’s shoulder.

“Did you see where that funny little man went?” she asked quietly. Emily looked over her shoulder and saw that the old man had vanished. She’d heard nothing of his departure and she glanced around the stone pillar in the middle of the shop but he wasn’t there either.

“Looks like he’s gone,” she said as she returned to the counter, “I saw him up at the palace a little while back. Sera thought he might be some sort of visiting dignitary.”

“Haven’t seen the like of him in around before,” Sayma replied, “Anyway, here’s what we’ve got.” And she set the display case down on the counter. Emily’s eyes drifted across the necklaces. There was one made of gold with a pendant set with a sparkling amethyst, another made from silver and wrought into the shape of a wolf’s head and one made from a shimmering bronze metal with a pendant in the shape of a bear. Her eyes fell upon one made from one made from rose gold. A ruby hung from the pendant and had been cut into the shape of a dagger, the rose gold curling about its base in an ornate pattern.

“How much is that one?” she asked, pointing to the necklace.

“I’ve been letting them go at five hundred a piece,” Sayma replied. She picked the necklace up by its fine gold chain, “But as it’s a gift I could sell it to you for four hundred.”

“That sounds good to me,” said Emily, handing over the gold. She then bought a couple of other presents: a new pestle and mortar for Angeline and a scarf for Vivienne. With these gifts she left the shop and made her way back across the street to the alchemists. She opened the door and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind her. The kitchen area was empty so she hurried in, depositing the presents on the table. She then fetched some paper and the animal hide glue Angeline kept behind the counter for making the paper medicine sachets. Using these she wrapped each of the presents and wrote their names on them. She then put them under the tree which stood in the corner. As she stood up she heard the stairs creak and looked over to see Serana.

“Where’s Angeline?” she asked.

Emily was about to reply when the door opened and both Angeline and Vivienne came in, carrying a large bag between them.

“Just a few last minute things,” Angeline said as she set the bag down on the table.

“You already have enough to feed a small army,” Vivienne remarked, “Who’s coming?”

“Well, I invited Jorn and Lisette from the Bard’s college, Angeline replied, “And Evette and Octieve San.”

“Mind if I ask Captain Sunhawk along?” Vivienne asked, “I was speaking with Corpulus this afternoon and he told me he put in anchor yesterday.”

“Of course you can invite him,” Angeline replied, “Hurry down to the port while I pour the wine. Emily, could you give me a hand?”

Emily helped Angeline to uncork the first bottle of spiced wine and pour it into the goblets while Serana swept out the ashes from the fireplace. Before long Evette San arrived along with her father, Octieve. It was their wine which was being provided for the festivities. Vivienne arrived a few minutes later with Captain Sunhawk who removed his tricorne hat, sitting down at the table. He was dressed in the same long flowing robes Emily had seen him wearing when he appeared at the house not long before Ulfric’s escape from the town. He and Octieve were soon swapping tales whilst Evette told Vivienne about this spice merchant she met when he came up from the Imperial city to sell spices. The food was about to be served up when Jorn joined them, carrying a bottle of Daggerfall mulled wine in each hand.

“Thought I’d bring a couple of bottles to help things along,” he said as he joined them at the table. The evening passed in a whirlwind of laughter, songs and drink. Jorn had them singing songs he’d learnt from the college including a few bawdy numbers he had evidently picked up elsewhere. With each tankard downed the night became more rowdy, the room warmer and the atmosphere ever more cheery. Angeline served up the food which was quickly demolished and Emily soon found that six people could eat enough to feed a small army. Emily and Serana sat by the fire while the rest of them ate and afterward helped to clean away the dishes. Another couple of bottles were opened and drained and it was gone midnight when the first of the revelers drifted out into the night. Vivienne left with Captain Sunhawk with the intent of going to the Winking Skeever for the last couple of drinks.

At last the house was empty apart from Angeline who was sweeping away the last of the fallen crumbs into the fire.

“Not a bad turn out,” she smiled, leaning on the broom, “I just hope Captain Sunhawk doesn’t fall off the harbour on the way back to his ship.”

The house was quiet now with the only sounds being the crackle and pop of the fire. Worn out from the talking, laughing and singing, Serana and Emily decided to call it a night. They flopped down onto the bed. Emily was about to fall asleep when she felt something being pushed into her hands. Serana smiled as Emily looked down at the wrapped parcel in her hands.

“Happy New Life,” she said. Emily unwrapped the parcel to see a beautiful hand carved flute nestled there.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, reaching over and hugging Serana tightly. Then she grinned impishly, “Is this what you kept hiding whenever I walked in?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Serana replied.

“I’ve got something for you too,” said Emily, getting up from the bed. She disappeared from the room and went downstairs to the tree, snatching up the parcel she’d left there. She hurried back up the stairs and handed it to Serana. She carefully unwrapped the paper and gazed at the necklace lying there. Unspeaking, a smile crept across her face as she lifted it up. She hung it from around her neck and touched the pendant lightly.

“Oh, Em, it’s beautiful,” she said, embracing the Earthling.


	4. A Letter from the Jarl

Emily reached up and pulled down the blue banner, handing it to Vivienne. The New Life celebrations had gone all the way from 25th Evening Star into the new year and through to the end of Morning Star. Vivienne took the banners and garlands she had amassed and packed them away into a crate which she stowed behind the counter. The tree stood in the corner. There was a ring of shed pine needles surrounding it and Serana took up the broom, sweeping them towards the open back door. She swept them out onto the porch and closed the door.

Emily crossed the room to the fireplace and took the kettle off the fire. She opened a small tin tub and took several spoonfuls of small dark tea leaves, adding them to the kettle. The Khajiit caravans brought the tea up from the south. Apparently it was rather popular with those up at the Blue Palace. Emily stirred the tea and set the spoon down on the table. A whole month into the new year and they still hadn’t heard a word from Falk Firebeard. Emily poured herself a cup of tea and swilled the contents thoughtfully. They would have to leave soon. She resolved to talk to Serana about it in the evening.

A knock at the door interrupted her train of thought and she got up, setting her cup down on the table. She crossed over to the door and pulled it open. Standing on the doorstep was a man wearing a faded jerkin and breeches. A leather cap shielded his ears from the cold and he was rummaging in a bag at his hip.

“Are you Emily?” he asked as he pulled a sheet of parchment from his bag.

“I am,” she replied.

“I have a letter for you,” he continued. Emily hesitated. Who could be sending her mail? She did not know many people in Skyrim. There was the Dawnguard but she highly doubted Isran had any interest in contacting her these days. They had not parted on good terms and though he acknowledged their victory over the vampires he was not willing to open up communications freely. Then there was the Mourning Sun but unless a new vampiric threat had arisen they had little reason to contact her.

“That’ll be five gold,” said the courier. Emily took five gold septims from her purse and handed them to the man. He handed over the letter before continuing on his way. Emily closed the door, all the while looking at the letter. It was closed with a blue wax seal bearing the likeness of a stag’s head. It was not a seal she recognized.

“What have you got there?” asked Serana as she sat back down at the table. Emily broke the seal and opened the letter. At the top of the letter was the same symbol embossed onto the parchment.

“Emily and Serana,” Emily read aloud, “I have received word through my good friend and colleague, Falk Firebeard, of your exploits regarding Wolfskull Cave. Of course the details of these exploits shall remain unspoken between us as per his wishes.” Serana set down her cup as Emily continued reading.

_I have been told that with the right incentive you might be persuaded to lend me your services. So let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I have some business needing taken care of within my Hold and if you were to do me this small favour I could make available exclusively to you a small plot of land in the South Falkreath pine forests. I eagerly await your response._

_I remain,  
Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath_

Emily set down the letter, laying it out flat on the table and smoothing out the creases in the parchment.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked.

“I think,” Serana replied, “You should get some parchment.”

Emily got up and rummaged behind the counter for a quill and some parchment. She sat down at the table and dipped her quill in the ink. Her quill was poised over the parchment as she considered her choice of words carefully. After a moment during which all that appeared on the parchment was a blot of ink from her poised quill and she swore under her breath before fetching a clean sheet of parchment she looked up at Serana.

“How would you address a Jarl in a letter?” she asked, “Your Majesty? Your eminence?”

“No, neither of those,” Serana replied, shaking her head, “Usually you’d say, ‘My Jarl,’. Not that I’ve made a habit of writing to nobles. Or anyone for that matter.”

“If we ever were apart,” Emily asked, leaning one elbow on the table, “Would you write to me?” Serana smiled one of her rare smiles.

“What do you think?” she asked by means of a reply.

“And how would you start your letters?” Emily asked, tilting her head impishly to one side. Serana pretended to be deep in thought.

“Dear Em, I would think,” she replied. Emily smiled at the use of the pet name.

“And I’d write back every time,” she said, “Dear Sera.” She sat up straighter at the table. “But let’s hope my quill gathers cobwebs.” Serana quirked an eyebrow at this remark. “Because we never are apart,” Emily continued. Serana smiled. Emily dipped the quill back in the ink and began to write.

At the end of the day, just after the sun had set she left the shop and made her way over to a small squat building that lay just before the city gates. It was where the couriers rested after a long journey and where letters to be posted could be dropped off. Emily knocked on the door and waited. It was soon answered by a burly man with a short curly dark beard.

“I’d like to drop off a letter,” Emily said, “To be delivered to the Jarl of Falkreath.”

“The Jarl, eh?” said the man, scratching his beard, “Will that be by rider or on foot?”

“On foot should be fine,” Emily replied. For more urgent messages those sending them could request a rider, that is, for someone to deliver them on horseback. It was much swifter but far more expensive.

“That’ll be twenty-five gold then,” said the man. Emily handed him a handful of gold septims along with the letter. He thanked her before heading back inside and handed the letter to the nearest courier.

Emily returned to the shop. Serana was sitting by the fire with Finn curled up on her lap.

“Domestic life suits us, eh?” she said as she sat down next to her, “No wolves, no brigands out for our blood and no nightmare skeletons from hell.”

“When should we head out for Falkreath?” Serana asked. Emily contemplated the crackling flames in the grate for a moment.

“How about Fredas night?” she replied, “Don’t want us getting there before our letter.” She leaned back on the wooden bench. “I’ll need to pack my things. We should go on one last hunt as well. Make sure we have enough to keep us going.”

“I might go and visit mother,” said Serana, “After all, it seems only fair to let her know we’re moving.”

“Shame no couriers can cross time and space,” Emily replied, “I’d like to tell my parents about all this. I had a place of my own back on earth, y’know?”

“So this is your second time owning a home then?” said Serana.

“Third actually, sort of,” Emily replied, “I lived with my girlfriend for a short while in her apartment. It didn’t really work out though. We found we didn’t really get on when we were under the same roof.”

“Girlfriend?” said Serana.

“Y’know, when we were courting,” Emily replied, “That’s what you call a girl if you’re courting them, or dating as we called it.”

“What was her name?” Serana asked.

“Maylene,” Emily replied.

* * *

The following night Serana made the trip down to Castle Volkihar. Emily took up her bow and arrows and went out hunting while she awaited the vampiress’ return. Tomorrow it would be Fredas and it would be time to leave for the green south. She shouldered the quiver as she passed between two trees growing close together. She hadn’t thought about Maylene in some time. Not since she’d boarded the plane to Norway. It all seemed so long ago. She froze as something moved on the path ahead. She slunk back behind the tree and peered ahead into the dark. Ahead of her lay a small pool and by it she saw the shadowy silhouette of an elk. The silvery moonlight shone on its great antlers and broad back. Emily nocked an arrow and fired.

The arrow hit its mark and the elk bellowed in pain, the dark shaft of the arrow poking out of its shaggy neck. It plunged off into the undergrowth and Emily gave chase. Vampirism, she found, had many perks and one of these was being fleet of foot. The elk crashed through the thicket with Emily in hot pursuit. It was starting to stagger, lurching to one side and careening into a stout tree trunk. Its nostrils were flared and its eyes rolled in its head in fright. The air whistled and the elk froze. Slowly it slumped forwards, a second arrow sticking out not far from the first.

It took Emily most of the night to heft the elk back to the city. She carefully skinned it outside the city gates and removed the antlers before setting to work carving the flesh ready to be sold. She would store it in the cellar and ask Vivienne in the morning if she would mind taking it down to the Winking Skeever to sell. Corpulus would pay them four gold for each cut they brought him. Perhaps along with what they got for the pelt it would be just enough to buy a tankard of honningbrew when they passed through Whiterun. She stood up from where she knelt by the carcass and waved at the figure approaching the city gates. Serana waved back. As she drew nearer she saw that a curious creature was perched on Serana’s arm. It had jet black feathers and a hooked beak. Most curious of all was its skull which was exposed to the night air. It cocked its head to one side, fixing Emily with empty eye sockets and shuffled its feathers.

“What’s that?” asked Emily as she looked at the strange bird.

“A bone hawk,” Serana replied, “Mother gave him to me. Said he’ll be able to find his way back to the island and carry messages.”

“That’s great, you’ll be able to keep in touch then,” Emily smiled.

“How was your hunt?” Serana asked. Emily gestured to the deer.

“Not bad,” she replied, “I was able to decant six bottles. That should see us to Falkreath, right?”

“Should do,” Serana said.

“You know, I’m actually really excited about this,” said Emily as she knelt down again and took up her hunting knife, “It feels like a new chapter, you know, for us.” Serana knelt down next to her and the bone hawk hopped up onto one of the antlers which lay in a wicker basket next to the carcass. It cocked its head to one side, watching as they worked. At last the venison lay prepared and Emily tossed the bone hawk a few of the scrag ends which it devoured eagerly. They got up and, hefting the basket between them, made their way back to the shop. Angeline and Vivienne were already in bed and the fire had burned down low in the grate. Emily took a log from the wicker basket that stood by the fireplace and tossed it onto the fire. They sat down on the bench as the fire took, licking its way up over the log.

“A small fire would be alright, wouldn’t it?” Emily asked.

“Hmm?”

“In our future house I mean,” Emily continued, “It’s nice coming home to a warm fire. Nice bottle of mead and a good book.”

“We’ll need to hire a stone mason for that,” Serana replied. Emily sank back further on the bench, resting her head on Serana’s shoulder.

“There has to be one somewhere in Falkreath,” she said. She looked up at Serana. “We’ll find someone, Sera.”

After several minutes gazing into the flickering flames her eyes started to close and her head nodded sleepily. Serana reached over and picked up a book from the nearby table, opening it and leafing through the pages until she found her bookmark.

“Mogrul,” Emily said suddenly, sitting up from her half doze.

“Hmmm?” said Serana, looking at the Earthling with quiet bemusement.

“Mogrul, he once told me he used to cut stone back in his stronghold,” Emily explained, “Maybe he could be persuaded to lend us a hand. The Ancestor Glade surely can’t be that far from our new home. And Gunmar, maybe he could help with any smithing we can’t handle.”

“Maybe,” Serana agreed, “And what about lumber?”

“There’s a lumber mill in Falkreath city,” Emily replied, “I’m sure we could turn our hands to a bit of carpentry. I quite like the idea of using a blade for shaping wood instead of fighting. Back home I used to do a bit of whittling. Nothing fancy, mind.” Serana smiled an amused smile.

“You’re such a dreamer,” she said fondly.

“You’re the one always telling me there’s nothing a Nord can’t do if they put their mind to it,” Emily shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess we’ll see what a Nord can do in another few weeks,” Serana replied. She looked over at the window where the first rays of morning sunlight were squeezing in between the wooden shutters. “I think I’ll go up and pack then have a rest for a bit,” she continued.

“Yeah, I think I’ll join you,” replied Emily as she got up and followed Serana towards the stairs.

* * *

The sun had just set when Emily tied her bedroll to the bottom of her backpack and swung it over her back. Finn hopped up onto the table and from there leapt up onto Emily’s arm, scampering up to his usual place about her shoulders. Serana’s bone hawk, whom she had named Tibius, was watching the otter with interest, cocking his head and eyeing him with first one eye socket and then the other. Angeline had packed them each a bottle of spiced wine and an amulet hung with canis root to keep away werebears. Serana took her travelling cloak from a peg by the door and clasped it about her neck.

“So, I wonder what services the Jarl wishes us to perform,” she said idly as she picked up her pack from the countertop.

“What kind of services would one usually perform for a Jarl?” asked Emily by means of an answer. Serana shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she said, “But I doubt it will be fetching his favourite bottle of mead from the tavern.”

They opened the door and slipped out into the street. The market was empty, all the stall holders having packed up and left. Emily took one last look up at the great wall that marked the divide between shopping and residential districts and the windmill that turned slowly in the evening breeze, sails catching the first shafts of moonlight. It was a strange feeling to be leaving Solitude once more and this time it was likely she would never again call it home. She turned and followed Serana down the street towards the main gates. A guard was coming up from the gate carrying a burning torch. He had likely just been relieved by the guard now occupying the space by the gate and he gave them a curt nod as he passed.

They reached the gate and after a brief exchange with the guard the gates were opened and they passed through. The wind had picked up and was blowing fresh and cold in from the Sea of Ghosts.

“On the road again,” Emily sang to herself, “Just can’t wait to get on the road again.” Realising that after all she only knew the words to these two lines, she hummed the rest. Serana listened as they walked and when the notes came to an end she asked, “Is that an Earth song?”

“Yeah,” Emily replied, “I can’t remember all the words though.”

“All the words?” Serana chuckled, “I think I heard more humming than singing back there.” Emily smiled.

“Come on then, Sera,” she said, “Your turn.”

“Em, I don’t really know any songs,” Serana replied, “Except for Ragnar the Red and Age of Aggression and I’ve heard them often enough this last week. Go on, you’ve got enough songs for both of us stored in that little light up box of yours.” She was referring to Emily’s phone. She’d only used it sparingly in the last few months as the battery had dwindled down to almost nothing.

“I daren’t switch it on,” said Emily, “It’s almost done as it is and unless I can find some way of charging it, once it’s dead, it’s dead. Besides, I’m sure I can remember some other song off the top of my head anyway.”

The first night took them down past Dragon Bridge, Emily singing what bits she could remember from Earth songs every now and then. At other times they just watched the scenery go by and listened to the sounds of wolves calling to one another in the dark and owls hooting in the shadowy branches above their heads. Emily looked up into the dense conifer canopy, remembering the time they careered right into the tops of one of those trees on that fateful journey from Winterhold to Dragon Bridge by broom. That same broom she had turned over to an Altmer wizard named Melaran who was apprenticing at the palace whilst serving as housecarl to one of the city’s thanes. He had promised her that for one hundred gold he felt confident he could repair the enchantment. Emily had handed him the gold and he had kept the broom for over a month. The broom was now tied to her backpack but so far they had elected not to use it. Serana said she’d like the walk anyway, saying it had been too long since they’d travelled properly.

As the sky began to lighten they made for a familiar cave just over the stone bridge that spanned the gushing river Hjaal. It stood in the midst of a small grove of trees whose branches almost hid the entrance from sight.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here, huh?” said Emily as they stepped inside. The brazier that marked the turn in the stone tunnel had long since gone out and Emily lit it as they passed, following the tunnel down to the vast cavern where the underground ruins of an ancient fort stood. It was more or less as Emily remembered with its crumbling stone walls and rubble strewn courtyard. The weyforce pedestal still stood at its heart where the Moth Priest, Dexion, had been imprisoned but the turquoise light it had once radiated was long extinguished. Emily heard the sounds of bats from where they roosted in the higher reaches of the cave, their small chittering cries reaching her sensitive ears. Tibius cocked his head to one side, listening out for the small cave dwelling mammals. He flapped up from Serana’s shoulder as they reached the fort where he circled a couple of times around the fort before perching on the top of a stone archway where he began preening at his dark feathers with his bony beak.

Serana and Emily rolled out their bedrolls not far from the weyforce pedestal and Emily gathered together some twigs and moss, building a small fire at the heart of the pedestal. As a vampire she did not crave the fire’s warmth and nor she need it for cooking but she found its reassuring orange glow restive. Finn was already curled up by the fire, watching the fiery motes as they floated up towards the cave ceiling.

“So a week and a half?” Emily said as she sat by the fire.

“About that,” Serana replied, “As long as we don’t run into any trouble. We’d better avoid the camp by the river about two miles up the road. Bandits. I thinned their numbers last time I passed through but they’ve likely regrouped.” Emily stretched out by the fire.

“Well, we’ve got a few hours of daylight ahead of us,” she said, “I think I’ll get some rest. See you tonight.”


	5. Bandits and Blood-Drinkers

All in all it took them just under two weeks to reach the proud and ancient city of Falkreath. They were waylaid as they crossed the Whiterun plains by a sabrecat which stalked them over the course of two nights. It would stay just out of reach of the orb of magelight but they could hear it in the dark. They stayed close together on those nights and on the third night it finally tired of waiting and struck. But both Serana and Emily were ready and after a short and bloody battle the beast lay dead. Its pelt now adorned Emily’s shoulders as they passed through the city gates.

Falkreath was a large city, home to many people. They were mostly Nords and a few Orcs, those left in the wake of the Great War between human and elvenkind. The Jarl’s longhouse lay at the heart of the city. It was not tall and imposing like Dragonsreach nor was it noble and grand like the Blue Palace. Instead it was altogether simpler in design but no less impressive. Blue banners bearing the head of a stag flanked the door on either side. As it was late evening when Serana and Emily passed through the city gates they made straight for the longhouse, past the smithy where the rhythmic metallic clang of iron being hammered into shape could be heard, past the general store and apothecary which lay on the main street and past the tavern with its lighted windows and sign swinging in the faint southerly breeze. A few drops of rain were beginning to fall and a few dark clouds had enveloped the larger of Nirn’s twin moons. A guard stood just outside the longhouse, carrying a steel broadsword and garbed in armour of deepest blue.

“Halt, what business do you have with the court?” he asked, eyeing them both through the closed faced steel helm.

“We have an appointment with Jarl Siddgeir,” Emily replied, reaching into her pack and pulling out the letter. She handed it to the guard who inspected it, taking note of the blue wax seal.

“Very well,” he said before letting them past. The interior of the longhouse consisted of a large main room dominated by a fire pit that ran the length of the centre of the room. Candle sconces made from what looked to be hollowed out horns sat in iron frames, throwing out a dim yellow light into the darker corners of the room. More blue banners hung on the walls and on either side of the throne sitting at the far end of the room on a small stone plinth, slightly elevated above the rest of the floor. Sitting in the throne was a man with short dark hair. He had a pointed weaselly face and wore a circlet carved from jade and beset with emeralds and a finely embroidered tunic adorned with fur, feathers and gold.

They were approached by a High Elven woman wearing flowing russet red robes. Her golden eyes flicked over both their faces, appraising each of them in turn.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked pleasantly. She did not sound like the High Elven women in Solitude whose voices were clipped and brusque. Hers was softer and more melodic with a bit of a Bruma lilt to it.

“Yes, ma’am,” Emily replied, once more handing over the letter for her to inspect.

“Ahh, so you’re Emily and Serana,” she said, “Wait here please.” With that she handed back the letter before crossing the large room towards the Jarl’s throne. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet of the hall.

“My Jarl,” she said as she reached the throne, “Mistress Emily and Mistress Serana to see you.” The Jarl smiled and beckoned them over lazily.

“I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival after receiving your last bit of correspondence,” he said. His voice seemed as sly as his face and had a drawling sibilant quality to it. “You write with eloquence. Refreshing after the usual Nordic brutes I have to deal with.”

“Thank you, my Jarl,” Emily replied. She was beginning to grasp the rules of etiquette she was expected to follow when speaking with a Jarl. It still made her a bit dizzy to think that she was effectively speaking to the King of Falkreath even though he did not have the same presence as the late High King Torygg or the impeccable manners and eloquence of Jarl Elisif. Rather he gave the impression of someone used to all the trappings of a privileged life but none of the responsibility that came with it.

“You mentioned in your letter that you had some use for our services,” said Serana, “May I ask what you had in mind?”

“Yes, of course,” replied the Jarl, “Let’s get down to business.” He put his hands together and steepled his fingers.

“There’s a group of bandits in my hold that I,” he paused, looking from one to the other in turn, “Might have had a few discreet dealings with. They were giving me a good cut but recently saw fit to stop it. And now my Uncle is starting to stick his wizened old nose in. And what’s more I think he’s putting that maid of his up to spying on me.” Serana and Emily glanced at one another. “He doesn’t need an excuse to start relegitimising his claim to the throne,” he continued, “So I’d appreciate you clearing up the evidence if you catch my drift.”

Emily was about to reply when Serana cut in. “It will be done as you asked, my Jarl,” she said. Emily stood, mouth still slightly open as though poised to speak. Then she closed it as Jarl Siddgeir replied.

“Excellent, it’s good to finally have someone useful around. Here’s all the details you’ll need.” He handed her a sheet of parchment on which was inscribed a map of the bandit camp’s location.

“Of all the cheek,” said Emily as the heavy wooden door closed behind them and they stepped out into the chill night air. “I thought Jarls were supposed to be noble. But we’re just cleaning up after his underhanded deals.” She turned to Serana. “Why did you say we’d do it?” Serana just smiled and rested her hand on her shoulder.

“Like it or not, Em, it’s the only way we’ll get our hands on that plot of land,” she explained, “And look at it this way,” she said, “Underhand dealings or not, those bandits will still be a threat to the people here.” She looked at Emily. “And potentially right on our doorstep.”

“Fair point,” Emily conceded, “Where are these bandits anyway?” Serana opened the parchment and scanned the map.

“Just south of Lake Illinalta,” she replied, “A little place called Pinewatch. Apparently they’ve been selling off wood as a front. We can reach it from the West gate out of Falkreath.”

“I guess we should get going while the night’s still young,” said Emily, shouldering her rucksack. They made their way down the cobblestone road that would take them to the West gate. They passed the lumber mill which stood near the town walls straddling the river that ran along the south edge of Falkreath. Emily listened to the sounds of the river lapping against the bank and the talk of the guards as they passed one another in the street. It was altogether a quieter city than Solitude and one, judging by the Imperial outpost just outside the city walls, under Imperial control. The red banners adorned with the symbol of the dragon with wings spread wide flapped in the wind on the outer walls of the outpost and a tent stood close by outside in which sat a small group of Imperial soldiers. They were clustered about a small fire which served as the only bastion of warmth outside the city walls.

They left the city behind and began the climb up the hill that led towards Pinewatch. As the city lights faded behind them the twin moons emerged from behind a bank of cloud, lighting the way ahead. Though Emily knew this was a grim affair they were setting off towards, she couldn’t help but admire the way the moonlight danced on the needles of the pine trees and the cobblestones below that made up the road. The larger of the moons, Masser, was a great red pearl in the night sky and reminded Emily greatly of the planet Mars. It was down to it that the moonlight had a slightly pinkish hue to it.

Serana stopped as they passed a fork in the road and pointed silently to something up ahead. Emily’s keen night eyes pierced the gloom and caught sight of a spindly silhouette in the distance. It was lit by two beacons of light, one at either end of the structure and after a moment Emily recognised it as a crudely built bridge straddling the road. A figure was pacing the bridge.

“Bandits?” Emily whispered to Serana.

“Maybe,” Serana whispered back, “Let’s go.”

They crept silently into the undergrowth, leaving the cobblestones behind. Serana had taken her bow from her back and Emily followed suit. They crept along, freezing every time a dry twig snapped under one of their boots or something rustled in the undergrowth. A torchbug drifted up from a log Emily had just stepped over and she flinched momentarily from the luminescent green light as it floated past her eyes.

“Crude but clever,” Serana muttered under her breath. Emily followed her gaze.

“What’s clever?” she asked quietly. Serana pointed to an area just below the scaffolding on one side of the bridge.

“They’ve set up a toll operation,” Serana explained, “Anyone who doesn’t pay gets several tons of rock dumped on their heads.” Emily recoiled slightly at the thought.

“Lovely people, aren’t they?” she said sarcastically, “What should we do?” Serana considered their options before replying.

“We carry on,” she said at last, “If one of their number breaks off and runs ahead and we don’t catch them, they could warn all of Pinewatch before we reach the top of the slope.” Emily nodded.

“Right,” she replied, “Well, I’m ready.”

And so they set off again. They crept quietly, looking back over their shoulders every now and then, checking that each of the five bandits standing on the scaffolding were still scanning the roads for possible targets. Emily breathed a sigh of relief when at last they left them behind and they could break into a run, jogging up the remainder of the slope.

Pinewatch, they soon found, appeared to be nothing more than a small farmhouse sitting at the midpoint of the slope, overlooking Lake Illinalta. Out the back was a small plot of land given over to farming a small crop of leeks and potatoes. An axe stood by a chopping block along with a large pile of firewood. Emily scanned the area just outside the house.

“How come they don’t have a sentry?” she asked. Serana shrugged her shoulders. Emily took a lockpick from her pocket and crouched down by the door. She put her ear to the wood for a moment, listening out for any activity inside. Finding none she inserted the pick into the lock and wedged her pocketknife in alongside it. She moved the pick slowly, listening for the telltale click of the tumbler. At last, with a satisfying click, the door swung open and Emily moved silently across the threshold, dagger drawn and closely followed by Serana. What they found themselves in looked to be a perfectly ordinary living space and Emily briefly wondered if perhaps the Jarl had given them the wrong address. There was a fire crackling in the grate and a small table on which lay a meal prepared for the shack’s inhabitants. Emily could smell the aroma of grilled leeks and rabbit. There was a keg of mead lying next to the fireplace and a few pairs of old leather boots. Some garlic and elves ear hung in clusters from a metal rack suspended from the ceiling. In one corner there was a wooden staircase. As Emily moved toward it the wood beneath her creaked threateningly and a voice suddenly called from below.

“Is someone there?”

It was a foolish question, Serana thought, as who on Nirn would be foolish enough to reply. She altered her focus from the voice to herself and willed herself to meld into the shadows. Her physical form obliged and she signaled for Emily to do the same. Emily faded from sight just in time as a woman climbed the wooden stairs, brandishing a warhammer. She wore furs, not the traditional attire of a farmer’s wife or even that of a woman living alone in the woods. Everything from the war paint on her face to the grim-looking weapon she carried screamed bandit. The woman looked around, sharp eyes taking in every detail of the room. Her jaw was clenched. Something was wrong. She shifted the warhammer more securely in her hands and turned to look into the farthest corners. She did not see the arrow levelled with the back of her head. She briefly heard the air whistle before the arrow embedded itself in her back and with an agonized scream she crumpled to the floor, her warhammer clanking to the wooden planks. Emily froze in the position from where she’d fired the arrow and waited, listening intently. But when no sounds but that of the fire popping in the grate met her ears she allowed herself to rematerialize. Serana faded back into view and they crept down the wooden staircase to the floor below.

The basement was furnished with a bed, a second fireplace and little else.

“Is that it?” Serana asked, leaning against a table, “Not very impressive.” Emily didn’t reply but instead cast her eye over the room. The bed looked recently slept in and there was a bowl of stew sitting by the fire. This didn’t add up with what Siddgeir had told them at all. Then something caught her eye, glinting in the firelight. She stooped and picked up the object. It was a single polished gold septim. As she pocketed it she saw another. And another. A small trail of money led towards the wall and a set of shelving.

“What is it?” asked Serana, joining her.

“This trail of septims,” Emily explained, dropping the coin she’d picked up into Serana’s hand, “It just stops here at this shelf.

“So?” said Serana.

“Something about it…doesn’t sit right somehow,” replied Emily. It was true, there was something off with the whole picture. There was this shelf with the trail of coins leading to it but something didn’t seem right. After a moment she saw what.

“The shelf’s empty,” she said quietly, “Why doesn’t it have anything on it?” All the other shelves in the room were groaning under the weight of either cooking utensils, clothes irons or animal pelts. Only this one alone remained bare.

“And these coins,” she continued, stooping once more, “This one here. It’s wedged under the shelves.” Her eyes widened as a possibility formed in her mind. “Maybe,” she said, getting up and peering closely at her surroundings.

“You think there might be a hidden door?” said Serana, following her chain of thought. Emily nodded.

“Have a look around,” she said, “See if anything sticks out?”

After several minutes searching Emily found what she was looking for. A smooth round button fastened onto the wall next to the bookshelf. An experimental push caused the empty shelf to swing open on large iron hinges and the coin wedged underneath skittered across the room, clinking in the stillness. They gazed into the tunnel beyond.

“A Nordic ruin,” said Serana as she took a step into the stone passage, “Those fools have tunneled right into a Nordic ruin.” Emily, who had since explored one or two such ruins with her vampiric companion, knew full well why she considered them fools. Nordic ruins, beset with traps, were hazardous to traverse, to say nothing of their inhabitants. Serana’s foot collided with something in the dark and she looked down to see a wooden bucket filled with several bottles of wine sitting just inside the tunnel. They sidestepped them and continued on down the tunnel. It was lit at the far end by a torch and opened out onto a large chamber. It was crisscrossed with wooden scaffolding which ran between the stone pillars and below them they could make out several wooden wheelbarrows loaded up with large bits of stone. Emily recoiled as she spotted the slumped form of a person lying on the cold stone just out of reach of the torchlight. On closer inspection they found her to be an elf, an Altmer to be exact. She was dressed in the clothes of a commoner and her last scream was still etched into her face.

They left the corpse behind and made for the scaffolding. At the far end they spotted two bandits who looked to be conversing with one another. Serana nodded to Emily who nocked an arrow. “You take the one on the right,” she mouthed to Serana who nodded before drawing the string of her bow taut.

Both arrows flew from their bows simultaneously and whizzed through the air. One caught the bandit on the left in the chest and he crumpled while the second embedded itself in the bandit on the right’s shoulder. Emily heard Serana swear under her breath as the bandit, recoiling from the pain, drew his sword and ran in the direction the arrows had come from, away from his fallen comrade. Serana switched to her blade and they broke from the shadows. The bandit, a burly Orc, let out a bloodcurdling yell that echoed throughout the cavern and to their dismay it was answered by another. Emily heard running footsteps as they closed in on the Orc. Serana sidestepped a lunge from the brutish man and plunged her dagger into his back. As he toppled out of sight off the scaffolding the third bandit rounded the corner.

“Intruders,” he yelled as he took his bow from his back and nocked an arrow. He did not see the shimmering air as he levelled his bow with Serana who stared back, poised to dodge to one side. He felt the white-hot searing pain in his back as he fell and Emily shimmered back into visibility. As he crumpled to the dirt Serana and Emily froze, listening intently. But all they heard was a stale breeze skittering loose stones across the wooden scaffolding and the soft fall of loose earth from the ceiling. Serana retrieved her dagger from the Orc where he lay in the dirt below and they retraced their steps. They found another passageway down which the scaffolding stretched. Further on it gave way to another stone tunnel like the one they had entered by. Serana’s ears picked up on the faint sounds of chatter as they crept quietly along.

“How many?” Emily whispered.

Serana listened again before replying.

“Two, I think,” she replied. She paused. “No, three.”

At the end of the tunnel it opened out into a sizeable cavern, the main feature of which was a long rickety-looking wooden table and chairs. Two bandits sat in the chairs while a third stood at the head of the table and seemed to be regaling them with some tale or other. He was obviously deep in his cups from the way he stood and judging by the bored look on the Altmer’s face as he sat with his chin in his hand, it was a story they had heard before.

Next to the table was a partially collapsed stone walkway that led up to the higher levels and stacked under this walkway and lining the walls were wooden chests, piles of ingots, pelts and a framed paintings; the bandits’ ill-gotten gains.

Emily nocked an arrow and edged out from under the walkway. The Altmer’s head nodded, eyes slipping shut as he wavered on the edge of a doze when his amber eyes caught the glint of metal in the dark. The air whistled as he leapt to his feet, drawing his blade. The Orc who sat next to him looked up. There was a heavy thud as the drunken Nord collapsed across the table, the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his neck.

The Altmer was the first to act, running at Emily, blade level with her chest. At the last moment he feinted and swung around to the left. Emily ducked and a cascade of sparks rained down upon her as his blade struck the stone wall behind her.

Meanwhile the Orc lunged at Serana, heavy club raised over his head . He brought it down with an almighty crash. Serana’s legs were dashed out from under her as the club pinned her cloak to the stone floor. She crashed to the ground, grappling at the tightening fabric. The bandit laughed as he gazed down at the struggling vampiress and raised his club again. In an instant Serana ceased struggling. She rolled to one side and plunged her dagger deep into the Orc’s leg. He roared with pain, dropping the club where it landed on the table, splitting it in two.

Emily dodged another blow and loosed a vampiric drain spell upon the Altmer. He yelled as the red light engulfed him and he dropped his blade. Emily saw her chance and ran at the Altmer, running him through. He slid off the blade with a low moan. As his breath became a shuddering gurgle before dying away they looked around.

Serana opened one of the chests lying close to the table. She pulled out a purse full of coins and stowed them in her pack.

“Hmmm… this could come in handy,” she said as she lifted out a rusty old pickaxe. She tossed it to Emily who caught it and hung it from a loop on her belt. She then turned her attention to the walkway above which she scaled quickly. She picked her way around a large shattered urn and eyed another stone platform several feet away. She peered over the edge at the floor below where Serana was picking her way through the rubble. The rubble suggested that once upon a time the two stone platforms were connected by a stone bridge running between them. Emily leapt from one to the other and opened the chest on the far side. Inside lay a sum of coin, a few gems and some solid glass tubing which she pocketed. She rejoined Serana on the floor below and they continued onward.

At last they came to a wooden door set deep into the rockface. Emily opened it a crack and peered through. What lay beyond was a vast cavern. Bone chimes hung from the ceiling, designed to alert the bandits to any intruder stumbling around in the dark. These proved to be of no obstacle to the vampire raiders. As they reached a large stack of crates that afforded them some cover they heard the voice of a man.

“I told him he’d never get past the traps but he wouldn’t listen.” A deep gravelly voice answered.

“It was a stupid plan and now Rigel is so mad she won’t even let us cut him down from there.” The speaker was an Orc and he swilled the contents of his tankard as he spoke. A woman turned from the Orc to her companion.

“Aye, and she’s added more traps now as well,” she said, a note of dismay making itself evident in her voice. Then she raised her own tankard, “A moment of silence for our fallen friend.”

The three of them drank solemnly. They did not notice the two vampires in their sorrow and by the time the Orc had drained his tankard they had gone.

They moved silently through a stone tunnel that led away from the three bandits. This brought them past several iron cages. As they passed the last one a new smell pervaded the room. It was the stench of decay. They found the source at the far end of the room where several stone sarcophagi lay open and the bodies of several draugr lay in a macabre pile, decayed mouths pulled back in silent snarls.

“Looks like they’ve been evicting the previous inhabitants,” Emily nodded wryly to the pile of corpses.

The next room looked to be the bandits’ sleeping quarters. One was sleeping on the bed at the far end of the room. He turned restlessly in his sleep as they approached and suddenly his eyes snapped open. He saw red eyes glowing in the dark and his face turned pale as he yelled.

“Vampires! Vampires in the camp!”

Serana quickly silenced him as another four bandits hurried out from the adjoining area. Three of them were Dunmeri mages and soon lightning arced and spat from every corner. Emily readied a ward and charged at the first while Serana engaged the fourth: an Argonian archer. She feinted, dodging the first of his arrows before bringing her blade up to meet his throat. As he fell an arc of lightning surged over her head and she rolled to one side as it was followed by another. Emily turned away from the first mage and dove at the second as the mage loosed another bolt of lightning. It ricocheted off the wall and in the resounding confusion struck the third mage dead. The clamour of thunder echoed around them and when it died away all the bandits lay dead and they waited for several minutes lest the cacophony should have attracted further attention from deeper in the ruins.

When none came they hastened onward. Another crudely dug tunnel like the one they had entered the sleeping quarters by brought them to a slightly smaller but no less furnished cavern. Thick lengths of rope stretched across the room in all directions and hung from these were loose lengths of thin rope. These were hung with horker tusks and bones from both man and beast. In the dim light Emily saw that the room was larger than it first appeared, divided down the middle by a wooden partition. She signaled mutely to Serana and they both stopped to listen. Then Serana heard it. Breathing, like a mortal makes when they are taking great pains not to be heard. It was coming from the far side of the partition. Drawing her blade from its scabbard, Emily led the way around the partition.

When she caught sight of the two vampires, their red eyes glowing in the dark, the woman tightened her grip on the formidable looking battleaxe she carried. She bit her lip, drawing blood.

“We’re here on behalf of the Jarl of Falkreath,” said Emily, “Leave this Hold if you do not wish to end up like your men.”

“Pah,” snorted the woman they assumed to be Rigel, leader of the marauders, “I should’ve known that black-hearted dog would eventually show his fangs once we stopped his cut. He was but a leech and we’re doing much better now even without his so-called protection from the law.” Here she spat on the ground, grinding her boot in the minute amount of moisture. She fixed them with vivid blue eyes set deep in her pointed face.

“But I am surprised at that weasel hiring the likes of a couple of filthy blood drinkers.” At this Serana’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She glanced to her companion in time to see her flinch. It was only momentary and vanished as quickly as it had come but Serana saw it just the same and it made her feel uncertain. That flicker of uncertainty vanished a moment later as Rigel stirred into action, running at them. Emily shifted her weight and sprang at her opponent. The battleaxe was raised over her head when Serana moved, seizing the opportunity while Rigel’s guard was lowered, plunging her dagger into her side before Emily even reached her. It was not a fair fight with two against one but Serana hardly cared. Bandits would not show any more care when swarming a lone wagoner and few would grant mercy even with their goods offered with no resistance.

And so Rigel fell following a second blow from Serana’s dagger. Emily knew something was bothering the vampiress as she stopped to clean her blade on the tunic of the dead bandit leader but she elected not to voice it until they were back in the still night air.

On the dead body they found a key and followed another well-trodden tunnel that led away from Rigel’s quarters in another direction. This tunnel was beset with traps of all makings but being of bandit design they were crude and easily avoided so long as they were spotted in time. At the end of the corridor was a heavy iron door whose lock the key fit.

The treasure room, which is what the room’s purpose must have been given the large pile of gold, silver and gems of various kinds that lay at its centre, was originally a burial chamber. Embalmed long dead bodies lay in alcoves at regular intervals around the edge of the room. Emily crossed over to the table which held all the loot. The gold and gems they divided among themselves. Emily took a circlet from the pile and set it atop her head at a jaunty angle, hoping to draw a laugh from her companion. But this time there came none as they gathered the rest of their spoils. They left the silver alone as neither could bare its touch but they took the curious looking mold made for casting metal which lay on the edge of the table. The Jarl had mentioned it on the sheet of parchment, asking they obtain it for him so long as it had not already been fenced.

With their loot stowed away they left by another tunnel which took them to a concealed entrance close to where their journey into the ruins had begun.

At last they made it outside and Emily thought it was time to address her companion.

“Are you alright?” she asked, resting a hand on the vampiress’ arm. She did not pull away but nor did she turn to face her.

“Is it what she said?” Emily persisted. Serana turned to her and Emily saw she had been correct in her assumptions.

“Don’t think on such things, Sera,” she said gently.

“But Em, it’s because of me that you are a vampire,” Serana replied and Emily heard the consternation in her voice, “If it had been just me she called a blood drinker-.” Here Emily took hold of Serana’s arm firmly and fixed her with an intent gaze.

“Serana, I do not regret the power you gave me,” she said, “Without it, rather than being undead by now I would have been, well, just dead. You gave me a real chance at survival in this world. Perhaps drinking blood is not the means of feeding I would have chosen but its better than being a heap of bones in a ditch.” She reached up then, cupping Serana’s face gently in her hands which was rather a strange sight to be sure as she was a full head shorter than the Nord vampiress.

“Besides, being called a blood drinker,” she said, “It is no worse than the names I was called back on Earth.” She withdrew her hands as Serana replied.

“What names?” she asked. Emily shrugged her shoulders, giving a slight chuckle which surprised the vampiress.

“Oh, Sera, where to begin,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Dyke, fag, likalotapus, all those words often followed me along the street when I was in high school.” She smiled then. “Thankfully Earth has become more tolerant over time but that hatred is still there, still bubbling beneath the surface like magma,” she continued, “But soon you learn that such opinions don’t matter. It is the opinions of the people you love that matter.”

“Who do you love, Emily?” Serana asked. Emily slipped her hand into Serana’s as they started walking back towards Falkreath City.

“My family,” she said, “The few friends I kept in touch with after school.” She looked up at Serana. “And you.” It was the first time she had spoken these words aloud to her that she could remember. Serana smiled and squeezed her fingers gently. They saw the city lights of Falkreath gleaming brightly ahead of them before long. Emily glanced at her watch. It was a little after four in the morning.

“Come on, why don’t we grab a few drinks, wait out the day and go see his royal highness in the evening?” she suggested. Serana chuckled and Emily, glad the atmosphere had lifted once more fixed her gaze back on the twinkling lights and the promise of a good bottle of mead.


	6. The Forest Clearing

Once back in Falkreath Serana and Emily headed for the nearest tavern. It was a short, squat building close to the Eastern gate. Like many places of business in the city its name played on the themes of death and the grave.

“In a way it seems almost made for us,” Emily observed with a chuckle as she pushed the door open. This time she did win a laugh from her companion as the events from earlier had been smoothed over.

The interior was a good deal livelier than the name suggested. Close to the bar a black robed man looked to be cajoling another, a Nord in a horned helm, into a drinking game of sorts. Emily, for a moment, had the curious notion she had laid eyes on him before in another of Skyrim’s taverns. A moment later this feeling passed and she and her companion took a seat in a corner near the large fire pit. Tibius and Finn, who had largely kept out of the way during the battles in Pinewatch now hunted for scraps of food on the tabletop dropped by the table’s previous occupants. They found, simultaneously, a chunk of cooked fish and, after fighting over it for a time, split it in two and each sat back to nibble at their prize. Serana watched the two animals.

“Reminds me of us, when we first met,” she said with a slight laugh. Her hand lingered on Emily’s for a moment and once again Emily felt something stir in her chest even though her heart was long still.

Emily laughed along with her companion.

They ordered a tankard of mead each and spent much of the morning sipping it slowly. At around noon they booked a room in which to rest, read and talk.

At last night came and they left the tavern in favour of the Jarl’s longhouse. He lounged in his throne expectantly, watching them with the lazy air that a lion might give after gorging himself on the kill of the lioness’ hunt. It was all Emily could do to keep a civil tongue in her head and left Serana to do most of the talking.

“The bandits have been cleared out of Pinewatch,” she said, “Their leader, Rigel, is dead.” She held out the candlestick mold, “And here is the mold.”

“I remember Rigel,” Jarl Siddgeir said with barely concealed contempt, “Surly brute with the face of a Skeever.” He drew back and nodded to his steward.

“Very well, you have done as I asked and now I must hold up my end of the bargain,” he said as his steward stepped towards them, carrying a sheet of paper. “By my right as Jarl I grant you permission to purchase land in the Hold.”

Once again Emily paused, aghast, just as she had done when they accepted the job. It had been her understanding that the land was reward for their work, not merely the right to purchase it. She managed to choke out a response past her consternation.

“How much?” she asked.

“Five thousand septims and the land is yours,” Jarl Siddgeir replied coolly, “And of course once the construction of the property is complete there will be the matter of taxes to discuss. But that can wait until a later date.”

Emily said nothing as both she and Serana signed the deed and it was stamped. She did not trust herself to speak. The gold changed hands and with the signed deed they left the Jarl’s longhouse.

“I feel as though we have entered into a bargain with the Sheriff of Nottingham or Prince John himself,” said Emily wryly.

“Who are they?” asked Serana.

“They were characters from the English folktale of Robin Hood. To cut a long story incredibly short they taxed the people of Nottingham until they had nothing more to give. It was only the actions of a brave and resourceful outlaw named Robin Hood and his band of men that they did not starve to death.”

“You’ll have to tell me this tale sometime,” said Serana. Then she cast a darting glance at the closed door of the longhouse.

“Miserable wretch, wasn’t he?” she said with a note of annoyance and Emily smiled with a kind of satisfaction that her vampiric companion was not entirely immune to the Jarl’s irritating ways.

The way to the plot of land they had purchased was not far so they elected to leave immediately for it. Their trek took them out of Falkreath’s eastern gate and, following a barely discernible path, into the Falkreath forest uplands. The way was steep in places and took them through dark woody glens and over brooks cascading over the bare rocks. Emily spotted, with a measure of gladness, game trails of animals both large and small. It looked like hunting would be far from an issue out here.

For a time the trail took them out of the denser part of the forest. Here the trees grew less closely together and far in the distance they saw, shimmering like the surface of a great looking glass, Lake Illinalta, lit by Nirn’s two moons. Here they paused for a moment.

“It would be nice to come out here of an evening,” Emily said. She had scaled a low hanging branch and sat with one leg dangling over the edge. Serana climbed up where she sat down next to her.

“We’ve still got to build the house first,” Serana reminded her. Emily gave a sigh of mock exasperation.

“You Nords,” she said, “Always so practical.” Serana chuckled.

“Come on, or we’ll not have time to search out a comfy cave before morning,” she said before leaping back down onto the forest floor and continued her way back into the trees. Emily followed her and some time after midnight they reached the plot of land. It lay at the forest’s highest point and was marked out from the rest of the forest by a fence made from wooden posts hammered deep into the ground and connected at the top by loose lengths of ropes. What caught Emily’s interest was a large oak that grew towards the Southwestern corner of the plot. Up to this point Emily had presumed that either oaks were not present in Tamriel or they were simply too far North for them to thrive. But here in the Falkreath forest it seemed that one had deigned to set down its roots. It was very old judging by how gnarled and thick its trunk was and possessed a great bushy canopy supported by numerous sturdy branches.

“Not a bad size,” Emily said as she surveyed the plot, hands on hips. She turned to Serana. “Not that I’d know a good plot from a poke in the eye.” She clapped her hands together. “Right,” she said, “Let’s go through what we need then and we’ll see about getting it brought in.”

“Lumber,” said Serana.

“Easy, Falkreath lumber mill,” Emily replied immediately.

“But how are we going to get it up here?” Serana asked, “It’s not exactly a leisurely stroll from the city.”

“Much the same way the ancient Egyptians built the pyramids I reckon,” Emily replied, “Putting the lumber on a sledge and pulling it along. I’m sure we can work something out with Bolund.”

“Alright,” said Serana, “Tools and iron?”

“Lod,” Emily replied, “The Mourning Sun traded with him quite a bit. And I’m sure he’s got some tools we could buy.”

“Clay?” said Serana, “We’ll need it for binding the wall.”

“Binding the-,” began Emily, “Oh, you mean wattle and daub?” Serana nodded. “Well, if my memory serves clay can often be found along river banks and possibly at the edges of lakes. If that’s so, we’ve got Lake Illinalta close by. We could find what we need there.”

“Fair enough,” Serana replied, “And stone?” Emily thought. And thought.

“Alright, you’ve got me there,” she admitted, “Know of any quarries hereabouts?” Serana shook her head. “How important is it?” Emily asked.

“Fairly,” Serana replied, folding her arms, “We’ll need it for the foundations.”

“Damn,” Emily swore under her breath, “Guess we can get the other materials in the meantime. We’d better see about that cave then.” They left the plot and wandered off into the surrounding forest in search of a suitable cave or other fittingly shady space. They found one in the form of a small cave that led back through thick close growing tree roots into the side of a hilly slope.

“So, this is to be our home for the next load of months?” smiled Serana, looking appraisingly around the cave. She looked over at Emily, “I’ve seen worse.”

“Not far from the plot either,” Emily replied, “We could easily work late into the early hours and come back here before first light.” They settled down against the far wall, spreading their cloaks out on the floor.

“What will we do for a workforce?” Serana asked, leaning up against the wall, “You know there’ll be more than just the two of us can handle.”

“Who was it said Nord women could do anything they set their minds to?” Emily asked as she folded her arms behind her head, giving Serana a sly sideways glance. Serana replied by tweaking her nose. Emily relented.

“You’re right though,” she smiled, “Well, I could always see if the Mourning Sun would be willing to lend us a hand. And if not, Tamriel must have some sort of method for hiring workforces. I’m sure the jingle of coin could stir some into action.”

“They might grow suspicious if they had to work nights,” Serana pointed out.

“Well, why not just leave them to it to work by day?” Emily asked.

“Because we’ll need to supervise,” Serana replied, “And there’ll be times when questions will need to be answered. Is the door alright here? Is this foundation deep enough? How big do you want the cellar?”

“Alright, alright, I get your point,” smiled Emily, “We’ll go down to the road tonight. How about I go sound out the Mourning Sun and you take care of buying the lumber?” Serana pretended to be deep in thought for a moment.

“Alright,” she said at last.

They slept for part of the morning and at around noon Emily fetched some sheets of paper from her bag along with a quill and inkwell. She had never drawn out architectural plans before but she figured now was to be as good a time as any to start learning. Serana soon joined her as she began scratching out the lines that marked the external walls of the main room. They’d decided on a small two storey cottage where half of the ground floor was given over to a large main room with a fireplace at one end of it. An archway led from the main room into the dining room and the kitchen was to be at the back of the house. It had been Emily’s idea to include it.

“But why include something we’re never going to use?” had been Serana’s question.

“Supposing we ever had guests round?” Emily replied.

“Like who?” Serana asked. Emily shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“I hope you’re not planning on inviting Isran round for dinner,” she said, a hint of amusement creeping into her eyes. Emily laughed.

“As if,” she replied, “No, but maybe Angeline and Vivienne. Or Gunmar and Sorine? Besides, good place to store any good mead we happen to come across. And it’s just…” she paused, shrugging her shoulders, “Nice, to have a kitchen.”

“One of the remnants of mortality?” said Serana, her voice softer now.

“Yeah, maybe,” Emily replied, “So, how about upstairs?”

And so it went on. They elected to share a room. It was what they were used to between all the times they’d shared a bedroll on the road and sharing a room at Angeline’s. But in the end they decided to add a spare room. Another small room was to be given over to an alchemy lab and above it would be built a small tower room which would serve as a reading room and have a flat roof with a canopy hanging over it where they could sit by night and watch the skies. Emily was all for hanging a flag at the top of the tower and when Serana asked her why she told her it would be like when she was a child and she and her friends had built a treehouse out in Stockhill wood. It had been their clubhouse, the usual sort, built of discarded wooden planks and pallets left over from the bonfires. A red flag had flown from the wooden mast made from an old broom handle and some see through plastic panels had made do for windows. A ladder made from wooden slats hammered into the stout tree trunk and a trapdoor served as entrance.

Serana decided to put aside a plot of land out the back to grow alchemical flowers and herbs. Already mage’s bugloss, blue flowering alkanet, stone flowers and wild bergamot grew in the spaces uncovered by the dense canopy while white caps, blisterwort and bleeding crowns clustered about the bases of most of the trees. Emily decided to set up a few archery targets along the side of the house.

“Well, it’s a solid start,” said Serana, looking over the plans, “What’s this bit here?” She pointed to a symbol under the oak tree.

“Oh, that’s one of those hanging swing seats,” Emily replied She took up the quill and sketched out a quick drawing. “Y’know, like this.” Serana smiled.

“Well, we’ve still got a few hours before sunset,” she said, “I think I’ll get some sleep.”

* * *

The rest of the day passed quietly and when at last the sun had set they left their cave and followed the track down to the road. The way seemed shorter than before now that they knew the way and before long they left the dirt track in favour of the cobblestones. Here they bid each other farewell and while Serana followed the cobblestones down towards Falkreath city, Emily bypassed the city and followed the road until she came to the stone cairn that marked the place where she should leave the road and head up into the mountains towards the Ancestor Glade.

She realised as she walked along that for the first time in months she was truly alone. Aside from the occasional solo hunt which took her into the foothills of the Solitude woods she and Serana had spent little time apart. She mused that sometime ago this might have terrified her, unsuited as she felt to survival in this wild world but now she revelled in the quiet night sounds of the forest around her. She could hear the bats as they flew between the trees. And there was the ghostly sound of feathered wings as the Boreal owl searched with piercing yellow eyes for its prey. On a sudden impulse she took off at a run, not out of fear but exhilaration. As a vampire she could run swiftly, leaping from tree stumps and over fallen logs. The night air rushed past her face, turning colder as she went higher up into the mountains. She slowed as she reached the stream, leaping lightly over it and climbing up over the frost-covered boulders. Clear ground gradually gave way to snow and flurries of snowflakes swirled about her. At last she spied the entrance to the Ancestor Glade, a black hole against the stark white of the mountainside. She stepped out of the rapidly forming snowstorm into the cave. Several torches had been placed at regular intervals, wedged into crevices between the rocks. The fallen log that acted as a bridge between two ledges was still there though it had become overgrown with ivy. Thick roots grew in a lattice, helping to support the tunnels which wound deeper into the mountain.

At last she reached the end of the tunnel where it opened out into a massive cavern bathed in moonlight which spilled in through the hole in the ceiling. A few moths fluttered lazily between the yellow mountain flowers that lined the path which led down to the underground springs. As always the air within the cave was hot and humid, a start contrast from the snowstorm whirling outside. Emily heard their voices before she saw them, seated around a campfire in an alcove apart from the rest of the cavern. A beef joint turned slowly on a spit, tended by an Orc. In the dim light of the fire Emily could just make out two scars on his neck, a souvenir of his encounter with the Volkihar vampires. Sitting by the fire were Sorine Jurard, the Breton inventor and Florentius, the devout paladin of Arkay. Emily could see the shadows of two great shaggy trolls penned up close by, dark fur almost blending into the shadows. Emily called out to the three members of the Mourning Sun as she approached and one by one they raised their heads, smiling as they recognised their visitor.

“Emily,” said Florentius, getting up from his place by the fire, “It’s been a while, my fanged friend.” Emily grinned back.

“It’s been a while, alright, how are you all doing?” she asked.

“Not bad,” Sorine replied, “I think our conquest of Castle Volkihar sent a shiver of fear through all of Skyrim’s vampires. Aside from a few isolated incidents, we’ve had little to contend with.”

“There were a few holed up in Bloodlet throne a few months back that the former Jarl of Falkreath had us deal with but that was an easy matter,” Mogrul added.

“The former Jarl?” said Emily.

“An old Nord noble named Dengeir of Stuhn,” Sorine explained, “Bit paranoid, got a bit of a temper. He almost bit Mogrul’s head off when we were getting the details we needed concerning the fort’s location.”

“Well, he can’t be worse than the current one,” said Emily, shrugging her shoulders.

“You’ve had royal business yourself?” said Florentius as Emily joined them by the fire. As she sat down Florentius looked briefly over her shoulder into the shadows.

“Is Serana not with you?” he asked.

“She’s off buying lumber,” Emily replied. And so she filled them in on the events of the past months, the letter from the Jarl, the bandits at Pinewatch and the plot of land up in the forest uplands.

“Well, I don’t mind turning my hand to a bit of stonemasonry,” said Mogrul, “If things remain as slack as they are around here I’ll need something to pass the time.” He took up a knife and cut off a bit of meat from the joint, setting it on a plate and handing it to Sorine.

“I used to do a little carpentry back in the temple I once belonged to,” added Florentius, “I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

“And speaking of stonemasonry,” said Emily, “None of you would happen to know where we could get good quality stone, would you? It’s the only thing we’re really missing.”

“Not down here,” Mogrul said, shaking his head, “Not much anyway. Your best bet would be up North. Or West in the Reach. You’ll have to get it brought in.”

“Well, I’ve haven’t seen much of the Reach,” said Emily, “I passed through part of it once when I was on the run from a group of vampires that captured me from Solitude. Could be a great excuse to see more of it.”

“There are plenty of Dwarven ruins in the Reach,” commented Sorine between mouthfuls, “If you happen across anything interesting, bring it back here. I might be able to lend a hand in this venture of yours if you bring me the right parts.”

“What use is Dwarven tech for building houses?” asked Mogrul.

“You’d be surprised what you can do with a few gyros, levers and a good supply of Dwarven metal,” Sorine replied, smiling and Emily saw the familiar spark when her thoughts turned to her inventions.

“Well, we’ll be glad of any help we can get,” she said.

Emily remained with them another hour during which Gunmar and Beleval returned from their hunting trip accompanied by Bran the husky and a young troll they were training. Following the battle for Castle Volkihar they had grown closer, Gunmar remarking that between his axe and Beleval’s arrows they made quite a team. They swapped tales and reminisced over past battles until Emily glanced at her watch and, realising it was almost midnight, bade them farewell.

“I’ll send word when we get our hands on that stone,” she said as she reached the mouth of the tunnel.

“Good luck,” said Florentius, “And watch out for Forsworn.”

“We’ll do that,” Emily replied. Talof had told her about the Forsworn not long after they escaped the Solitude vampires’ clutches. Rogue warriors, the untamed spirits of the Reach who claim the land as their ancestral home. Ruthless fighters who will kill all they deem to be trespassing and practitioners of the Old Ways.

Emily left the cave and followed the mountain path back down to the road. In the distance she could see the lights of Falkreath winking from the windows and the occasional open doorway. In the lower reaches of the Hold the night was mild and, Emily noted, Spring had well and truly settled in. Jacob’s ladder, wild geraniums and Lily of the Valley grew by the roadside in clusters, moonlight gleaming off the tiny bell-shaped flowers and thick wide leaves. Emily paused a moment to admire the blooms and on a sudden impulse bent to pick some of the Jacob’s Ladder and Lily of the Valley. Finn, who had been trotting at her side, spent some time nosing about among the blossoms. He sneezed and leapt back out from among the flowers onto the cobblestones. And so with otter in tow and her bunch of flowers, Emily set out for the cave and the plot of land.

“I’ll need to think of a name for our house-to-be,” she said to the otter as she walked. Finn chittered in response, keeping pace with her. “Something mysterious and beautiful,” she continued, “Like something out of a fairytale.” By now she had passed by Falkreath and had followed the road until she came to the dirt track that would take her up towards the plot of land. Finn leapt up onto a fallen tree and scampered along it, leaping from the end onto Emily’s arm where he scrambled up onto her shoulder.

“If there’d been a brook near it I might have called it Brookside,” she said. She stopped, chuckling a moment later, “No, maybe not. That was the name of one of those boorish old soap operas. Maybe Singing Stones Cottage, after the sound a brook makes as it cascades over stones. I guess we’ll wait and see.”

At last they reached the plot of land and Emily made for the cave in the mossy glen. Serana had already returned and was in the process of hefting a pile of firewood into the cave. She looked up when she caught sight of her.

“We got the lumber?” Emily asked as she reached her.

“They’ll bring it up tomorrow night,” she replied, “How about you? Any luck with the Mourning Sun?”

“We’ve got our workforce,” Emily replied, “Sorine reckons she can employ some new ideas using her Dwemer tech, Mogrul will help us with the stone…when we get it and Florentius says he knows a thing or two about carpentry. Gunmar and Beleval also agreed to lend a hand once they got back from their hunting trip. I think you and I could be attending a wedding in the near future.”

“Gunmar and Beleval?” said Serana, smiling slightly in her surprise. Emily nodded. She rested a hand on Serana’s arm.

“Come on, it’ll be morning before long and we’ve got a long night ahead of us. You and I are going to the Reach.”


	7. Journey to the West

“The Reach?” said Serana as they sat in the cave. The fire crackled between them and Finn and Tibius were picking over a slaughterfish that lay close by. Emily took a draught from the red bottle lying at her side and nodded.

“Mogrul reckoned we’d be able to purchase the stone we need from there,” she said.

“We’ll need to travel to the capital then,” said Serana, “To Markarth.”

“What do you know about Markarth?” Emily asked, “We passed through the Reach, Talof and I, but we never went near the capital.”

“From what I’ve heard it was built on the ruins of a great Dwemer city,” Serana replied, “It’s known as the City of Stone.”

“Sounds promising,” said Emily. Serana fished in her bag and handed Emily an old tattered book.

“Here, I picked this up on our travels,” she said, “Might tell you a bit more than I can.” Emily took the book and opened it at the first page. In angular black lettering were the words, ‘City of Stone: A Sellsword’s Guide to Markarth by Amanda Alleia.’ Emily drew her cloak about her, sitting with her back to the wall next to her vampiric companion as she began to read. Serana fetched another book from her bag and settled back against the wall.

“The Silver-Blood Inn?” Emily commented, “What an awful name for an Inn, sounds kind of like a death sentence for vampires.” Serana looked up from her book. “I mean, imagine if the human race suddenly somehow turned their blood to silver,” Emily went on. Serana chuckled.

“You say the most ridiculous things, Em,” she said.

As the day wore on reading gave way to sleep. Emily slept nestled close to the vampiress. Near the beginning she had done so as it gave her a sense of security when they made camp in any of Skyrim’s cosier caves for the night, now it was simply out of habit. Emily mused that when she had been mortal Serana’s skin had felt cool to the touch. Now it felt as warm to her as that of any living person and, in fact, being close to a mortal now felt like standing close to a furnace. It was all comparative, she concluded as she nodded off.

When night fell they left the cave. Emily wasted no time in scaling the old oak tree. From here she looked out over the forest and from here she noticed the first rustling of activity. The dense undergrowth shifted and stirred. Then for the briefest of moments two bushes parted and Emily saw a lantern swaying on a long pole. It flickered on the face of the man carrying it and subconsciously Emily’s hand reached for her bow. Then she paused and relaxed as the lantern’s light fell upon a great many lengths of lumber, lashed together and pulled by the company of men. Emily climbed quickly out of the tree and relayed to Serana what she had seen. They left the clearing and set off into the forest to meet the men. A few quick greetings were exchanged and they each took up a rope and helped in hauling the great load to the clearing. Emily noted that several times a few of the men exchanged anxious glances and once or twice Emily caught them looking at her or Serana. This made her a little uneasy and it was with a sigh of relief that they reached the clearing. Then, as quickly as they had come, the men left.

“I think we’ll need to get our lumber from elsewhere next time,” said Serana, voicing Emily’s thoughts, “They were suspicious having to make the delivery by night.”

“Where from?” Emily asked, “I’m not sure I’d make a very good lumberjack. Give me a rope and I’ll haul with the best of them but-.” She shrugged her shoulders to emphasise her point.

“I guess even your optimism has its limits,” Serana smiled, “Anyway, we can worry about this later. It’s time we left for the Reach.” Emily nodded. She and Serana returned to the cave to pack and to fetch Tibius and Finn. The logs had been left in a well sheltered area of the clearing out of the weather.

They followed the dirt track down to the road and struck out westward. It was four nights before they crossed the boarder from Falkreath into the Reach. The terrain was harsh and hilly which made for slow progress and took them past impressive-looking towers of stone and alongside steep-sided canyons. The roads were not so well maintained here and sometimes they followed little more than a dirt track. The land was wild and the people who inhabited it, still wilder. Emily sometimes caught sight of them, out of reach of the torchlight, shadowy figures lurking in the hills and when she saw them she and Serana would find cover. Although Serana was more than a match for a group of crazed Reachmen and Emily a more skilled fighter than when she had entered this wild world, they strove to keep to the shadows and avoid confrontation where possible.

Their first night in the Reach they spent in an abandoned fort that overlooked the road. Here they found the bodies of several dead Imperial legionnaires, casualties of Skyrim’s bloody civil war. The bodies were not long dead and once they had quenched their thirst they carried out a thorough search of the fort. Upon finding it empty they set up camp for the day. The fort had been stripped of most of its provisions by the unknown force that had swept through it but she was able to recover some arrows from the armoury and a few purses of gold coins the raiders had missed. One of the rooms they came to looked to have once been the Imperial captain’s quarters judging by the ragged remains of a red banner bearing the Imperial crest which hung over the once lavish bed. The sheets had been torn, the pillows scattered their down across the floor and the embroidered throw had been tossed into the fireplace where much of it was blackened. The smell of smoldering fabric pervaded the room. Emily lifted what remained of the throw from the fireplace and tossed it out into the hallway.

“I’ll never understand people like this,” she said as she wove an enchantment over the sheets, knitting together the worst of the tears, “What they can’t use they destroy.”

“That’s what happens when men and mer are driven by hatred and anger,” Serana replied calmly, “You remember what my father did to the garden.” Emily nodded.

“Well, I’ve mended them as best I can,” she said, indicating the sheets, “I think I’ll hit the hay. You?”

“Maybe in a bit,” Serana replied, “I think I’ll look around some more.”

Emily kicked off her boots and flopped down onto the bed. Finn curled up on the pillow next to her and soon she slipped into a light doze.

When she next woke there was little to tell how much time had passed for this room had no windows. It was Serana who had woken her and she saw through eyes blurred by sleep the urgency in her eyes. Quickly she got out of bed and Serana motioned for her to be silent. She listened and then she heard them. They spoke in an accent unfamiliar to her, harsh and rasping.

“Looks like someone got here before us,” said one.

“Those damnable Nords,” said another, “Quick, Thoragon, search for any survivors. If any of those Nords are still skulking around, I’d like to let them have a word with my axe.”

‘Forsworn,’ Serana mouthed. Emily nodded, drawing her blade. She glanced at her watch. It read quarter to nine. They moved silently toward the door and stopped again to listen. The voices were coming from further down the corridor. Emily opened the door a crack and peered out. The hallway was still and she motioned for Serana to follow. At the far end of the stone corridor stood the door that would take them back out into the chill night air of the Reach. When they had first arrived the corridor had seemed short but now with the voices drawing nearer the distance seemed dismayingly far. They saw their shadows first, their horned headdresses giving them a bestial appearance in silhouette and when they came around the corner and froze at the sight of the two vampiresses the torchlight flickering on their skin did little to alter this. One among them seemed more brute than the rest. He had restless black eyes sunk deep into his sockets and he carried a large axe made from sharpened stone wedged into twisted wood and bone. It was he who reacted before either of his two comrades, loosing a snarl that was more animal than man as he ran at them.

Their weapons clashed in the centre of the corridor. Two on one should have made it an easy fight but every lunge that was made, the brute of a man deflected with astonishing ease. His bestial strength and savagery was accompanied by a wolf’s cunning and intelligence. Serana darted back as another blow was aimed at her stomach. Emily’s hair stood on end as the axe came within a hair’s breadth of the vampiress’ armour. She had learned in the numerous battles she and Serana faced that there were two types: the kind where victory is almost certainly assured and you feel only a mild rush of adrenaline and the kind where victory seems uncertain and perhaps, unlikely. In these battles every nerve feels afire and chokes all sense from your mind. Every sense is alert and acute and you perceive each moment as an eternity. This was one such battle. She glanced down the hall and saw that the other two Forsworn had not moved from their positions. This surprised her though she had little time to dwell on this as she dodged a blow aimed at her neck. She rolled to one side out of the way of the axe as it swung down again.

As the force of the blow sent a shockwave rippling up the arms of the massive warrior she looked into his face and saw the snarl still fixed there. Then she caught sight of something else. The man’s chest was heavily scarred and at the centre of the scarred tissue was a gaping hole crisscrossed by wooden stakes. Glowing and pulsating beneath this macabre stitching was a glowing blossom. As she scrambled to her feet a plan began to take form.

“Serana,” she cried, “His chest.” Serana ducked another blow.

“What about it?” she asked.

“There’s a glowing thing in it,” she answered, “I think that’s what's powering him. Get it out while I try to distract him.” With that Emily leapt at the Forsworn warrior. She didn’t really have a clear idea in mind of how distract him when she made the leap but now as her arms wrapped around the arm holding the axe she clung on like grim death. She knew that if he wrenched her loose for even a moment that would be an end to it. She set her teeth, trying to pull him towards the wall. But she was a good deal shorter than him and though her vampiric abilities leant her a strength unmatched by many, she found it was all she could do to hold her ground.

Serana ran towards the Forsworn, dagger in hand. It was deceptively difficult to aim for the tiny spot his heart once occupied. Several times her dagger missed, slicing at the flesh surrounding the jagged opening and each time the Forsworn writhed, redoubling his efforts to free himself. But at last she heard the wood splintering as her dagger sliced a neat gash in the stitching covering the briarheart. Then she lunged forward and her hand closed around the blossom. The splintered wood dug into her hand as she wrenched at the blossom and with a horrible tearing sound it came free.

The effect was immediate. In an instant every muscle in the Forsworn’s body went limp and he crumpled, his axe hitting the ground with a resounding clang. They stood for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling the intense relief that comes with a hard won victory. It was only when they recovered that they discovered that the other two Forsworn had fled.

“They’ve probably gone to fetch their matriarch,” Serana said, “We should get out of here. One dance with death is about all I can stand tonight.” Emily nodded and they made for the door and fled out into the night.

“What was that thing in his chest?” Emily asked as they climbed a steep hill that took them up away from the ruined fort.

“A briar heart,” Serana replied, “I’ve heard of that ritual before but I’ve never seen it with my own eyes until tonight.”

“Ritual?” Emily questioned.

“The hagravens made a bargain with the Forsworn,” Serana explained, “They give them great power and strength in return for their humanity and to do that they replace their hearts with briar hearts. Did you look at his eyes? His thoughts weren’t his own.”

“I saw alright,” Emily shuddered, “It was like looking into the eyes of a zombie.”

“A zombie isn’t far from what they are,” Serana replied as she took Emily’s hand, helping her up a particularly large boulder. “The only difference is that they’re still living…sort of.”

“That’s not living,” Emily shook her head, “Why would anyone do that?”

“Someone might ask the same of us,” Serana replied matter-of-factly.

“I don’t see how much has changed for us,” Emily replied, “Aside from our feeding habits perhaps.” She looked up at the sky where the clouds had finally parted. “I can look up into the night sky and still appreciate its beauty. I can still see and hear the wonders around me and love those close to me. We’re still living, Sera, just differently.” Serana smiled. Emily caught up to her and they continued on up the grassy hills studded with stark chalky rock on their journey to Markarth.

* * *

It was a further three nights before they saw the twinkling lights of the city on the horizon. Emily was reading from the book Serana had given her in the cave before they’d set out from Falkreath.

“I guess our best bet would be to start in the tavern,” she said, “Seems to be a regular watering hole for all Markarth’s wealthy businessmen.”

“And failing that we can go down towards the Riverside,” Serana replied, “That’s where all the mining work goes on after all. Might as well go straight to the source.”

They left the mountains and descended the steep slopes until at last they rejoined the cobblestone road that would take them right up to the city.

It was coming up to midnight when they reached the city gates. The guard on duty was a surly lout with a heavily tattooed face and rippling muscles with which he gripped the cudgel he carried. Even though a battle seemed unlikely he had a menacing way of gripping the weapon that made Emily distinctly uneasy. She’d already made up her mind that this was a city you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of.

After a few gruff questions he allowed them inside. As the great Dwarven metal gates clanked shut behind them they found themselves in a large open air market. Despite the lateness of the hour several merchants were still flogging their wares. One man’s cart was laiden with great joints of meat, each with blood oozing from it which, to Emily’s dismay, made her thirst for a bite. She quickly turned her gaze away from the sight and saw that Serana had done the same. But on following her gaze she found it to be for an entirely different reason. Her sights were focused on a man in grubby patched clothes. He was evidently trying not to be seen and every so often she saw his fingers dance over the hilt of a sharp-looking blade belted at his hip. His movements were furtive and it seemed as though he was waiting for someone. Emily joined Serana in her vigil as they moved along to another stall, keeping the man in sight. They had stopped by a fruit stall stocked with apples, small baskets of Jazbay grapes and crates of juniper berries. Emily picked up one of the apples under the pretense of checking it for bruises and imperfections. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man pull the blade from its scabbard as he advanced towards a woman in a pale blue dress. She had her back to him and did not see his rapidly approaching form. Emily dropped the apple, much to the annoyance of the stallholder and pulled her own blade.

“Look out,” she yelled as she hurried towards the woman. Her outcry had two effects: it made the woman whirl around to face her attacker and at the same time her attacker faltered. The element of surprise had been lost. The woman screamed when she saw the dagger poised over his head but the next second her would-be attacker whirled upon the one who had called out. Emily found herself staring into eyes tainted with madness as the man’s lips parted to shout, “For the Forsworn!” Then he charged.

At the mention of the dreaded name of the Reachmen the whole market broke into disarray. Several citizens called for the guards as Emily and the madman clashed in the centre of the market. Sparks flew from their blades as they crashed together again and again. Emily heard running footsteps and felt a stall against her back as she took another step back. The man lunged and together they crashed into the stall. The wood splintered as the stall collapsed and them with it. The moment she crashed to the ground, Emily rolled to one side, breathing quickly. But the man did not move. Emily saw the blood pooling beneath him and when she turned him over cautiously his eyes were glassy and staring. He had fallen on his own blade.

Serana helped Emily to her feet as the guards swarmed the marketplace. They quickly shooed away any onlookers and those that would not go were grabbed by the scruffs of their jerkins and hauled from the marketplace. One of the stallholders, a Redguard woman, was talking to the man’s would-be victim, pushing a mug of ale into her shaking hands.

“Let’s not stay here any longer than we have to, Sera,” said Emily. Serana nodded.

“By the gods,” said a voice close beside her. She turned to see a man with a tattooed face and long blonde hair. He was staring at the dead man in the wreckage of the stall. “A woman attacked right on the streets. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Emily replied.

“I think you dropped this,” said the man, pushing a piece of paper into Emily’s hand, “Some sort of note. Looks important.” Emily unfolded the piece of paper. Written in the centre were the words, ‘Meet me at the shrine of Talos.’

“The shrine of Talos, wh-,” Emily began but the man had already gone.

“Where did he go?” she asked Serana. Serana shook her head.

“No idea,” she replied, “Come on, let’s head inside. We can decide what to do about all this over a few pints of mead.”


	8. No One Escapes Cidhna Mine

Emily set down her empty tankard on the stone table. Everything in the Inn from the table to the chairs to the very beds on which the patrons slept were made of the same cold grey stone.

“So, worth it?” she asked her vampiric companion.

“He was definitely a local,” Serana replied, “If anything he might be able to point us to the right person.” Emily nodded. She took the book from her bag and set it down on the table next to where Finn was dozing, curled up in a ball. She leafed through the pages until she found the passage she was looking for.

“Well, it says here it’s halfway up the central stone crag that separates the riverside from the dryside,” said Emily, “Below the Temple of Dibella.”

“Think you’ll be alright if you go in alone?” Serana asked.

“Hmm..?” said Emily as she looked up from the book, “Why?” She’d known of Serana’s aversion to temples for some time now but had never thought to ask her about it before.

“Temples and me,” said Serana, choosing her words carefully, “They don’t really mix. Actually I’m terrified of them.” She didn’t meet Emily’s gaze as she spoke these last few words. Emily reached over, resting her hand affectionately on the vampiress’ arm.

“Is this to do with the ritual?” she asked quietly. Serana nodded.

“Don’t worry,” Emily continued, “I’m sure I can handle whatever this man has in mind.” She stopped as she saw a smile tugging at the corners of Serana’s mouth. “Not like that,” she said, swatting playfully at her arm, “You know full well what I mean.”

“I never said anything,” smiled Serana. She set down her tankard and they got up from the table. Finn chittered agitatedly as he crawled up Emily’s arm to her shoulder. “What’s the matter, Finn?” Emily asked as she smoothed the otter’s bristling fur. Emily heard a wooden chair scrape against the stone floor and a man dressed in leathers with a greasy looking mohawk hurriedly left the room, glancing over his shoulder at Emily as he reached the door. The moment their eyes met Emily got a distinct impression that the man did not like her at all. Then he slunk out the door and into the night. Emily and Serana followed a moment later.

They followed the roads hewn straight from the rock up towards the central crag. The steps were steep and worn smooth by many generations of feet. The temple of Talos was tucked out of sight and the bronze doors were almost hidden in the gloom of the alcove. Not even the light of the twin moons could reach its lonely lair. Serana left Emily at the door and she pushed the door open. It creaked ominously and she froze for a second, checking the shadows before stepping inside.

The door closed heavily behind her and for a second she was in complete darkness. As her eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness she caught sight of the faint guttering light of a candle at the far end of the stone corridor that led deep under the city. Her footsteps echoed on the stone floor and as she drew nearer to the candle she saw the man from the marketplace standing at the foot of the statue that dominated much of the room at the end.

“Your friend not with you?” was his first question as she drew near.

“She’s waiting outside,” Emily replied.

“Ahhh, keeping a look out,” said the man, “Good idea.”

“So, what exactly did you want to meet me down here for?” Emily asked.

“That woman in the marketplace,” said the man, “She would have been dead had you not intervened. Another corpse on the ever growing pile.”

“Do you mean to tell me that this is a regular occurrence?” Emily asked. The man nodded.

“This has been going on for years,” he explained, “You saw how the guards deal with it. Usher everyone away and just clean up the mess.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Emily asked.

“I need you to find out who’s behind these murders,” replied the man, “I’ve been searching for years, since my father was murdered. He owned one of the mines around here. People say it was just a madman but I know better. I know the Forsworn are mixed up in all this.” The man’s face was grim as he continued. “I know a lot of the miners down in the Warrens are sympathetic to their cause, just as Weylin, that madman, was. You might want to start there. Or question their would-be victim. I can pay you handsomely for any information you uncover.”

“If it’s all the same to you, might I suggest a different offer?” Emily asked. The man looked at her, bemused.

“My friend and I are building a house,” Emily explained, “But we’ve hit a snag. We need stone and lots of it.”

“Well, maybe I can help you out there,” the man replied, “Alright, you help me out and I’ll get you as much stone as you need.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” said Emily. She paused.

“Eltrys,” said the man. Emily nodded.

“Emily,” she replied.

“So, what did he want?” Serana asked as Emily shut the temple doors behind her.

“You and I are going to be doing some detective work,” Emily replied, “We have to get to the bottom of the murders that have been going on here for years and in return he’ll hook us up with some stone.” As they descended the stone steps Emily filled Serana in on the details of the discussion she had with Eltrys.

“So he’s been investigating these murders for years,” said Serana thoughtfully. Emily nodded.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she replied.

“So, what chance do a couple of outsiders like us have?” Serana asked. Emily stopped and turned to face her companion.

“Because, my dear Sera, he doesn’t have your brilliant charm and powers of deduction,” she said, cupping Serana’s chin in her hands, “Or my ability to somehow stumble right into the middle of things.”

“Well, at least you’re honest,” Serana smiled, “So, where’s our first lead?”

“At the Inn I’d imagine,” Emily replied, “We need to have a word with that woman from the marketplace.” They followed the stone road down to the shallow stream that ran between the marketplace and the Inn. The Inn was less crowded than when they had left it and Emily scanned the room until she spotted the woman sitting by the fire. She recognised the Redguard woman from the jewellery stall sitting with her. A bard stood close by, strumming a sombre tune on his lute which matched the atmosphere of the tavern quite closely. Everywhere people stood in tight knotted groups, discussing matters in conspiratorial whispers. Emily didn’t need her heightened vampiric senses to know they were discussing the events in the marketplace from earlier.

They crossed the room to the firepit. The woman looked up when she heard their approach.

“I was wondering if I might have a few words with you, ma’am,” Emily said quietly. Taking her cue, the Redguard woman stood up and with a few parting words, left the fireside for the bar, allowing Emily and Serana to take a seat opposite the woman. As the firelight lit up their faces, the woman’s eyes showed a flicker of recognition.

“You were in the marketplace,” she said, “You stopped that madman.” Emily nodded.

“It’s that we’d like to talk to you about,” Emily said, “We’re investigating this matter and we’d appreciate any information you can give us.” The woman shifted a little in the chair. “Do you have any idea why that man might have attacked you?” Emily asked.

“No, none at all,” the woman replied, “I was just visiting here from Cyrodiil. I stopped by the market in the hopes of buying my sister some jewellery to bring home with me.”

“Markarth’s a long way to come just for some jewellery,” said Serana, “You have business in the city?”

“I do, or rather, I did,” the woman replied, “I think that after all this, I’ll just head home. Nothing is worth this kind of trouble.” She shifted uneasily again.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” said Emily, “Look, unless we have the whole picture, we can’t put a stop to these murders. The man said something about the Forsworn.”

“I’ve heard of them,” the woman conceded, “Savages in the hills who attack caravans. I really don’t know what connection they’d have to my business here. I was just sent to investigate Thonar Silver-Blood, that’s all. I don’t know anything about the Forsworn besides what everyone knows.” Emily nodded.

“Alright, well, thank you for your cooperation,” she said, “We will find out who’s behind all this, I promise.” They stood up and left the fireside.

“Where next?” Serana asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I have no idea who this Thonar Silver-Blood is,” said Emily, “But I’m sure this Inn’s name is no coincidence. There’s another lead I’d like to chase up first however. We know there’s some kind of connection to the Forsworn and Eltrys mentioned that a lot of those working in the mines are sympathetic to them. I think maybe it’s time we split up and look for clues.” Serana raised an eyebrow. “If I go back up to Eltrys and tell him what we found out concerning the woman and Thonar Silver-Blood, can you go down to the Warrens and see what you can find about that man from the market, Weylin?”

“I’ll use all my brilliant charm,” she smiled, echoing Emily’s words from earlier. Emily glanced at her watch.

“With any luck we’ll have this wrapped up before dawn,” she said as she reached the door.

“You’re optimistic,” Serana responded dryly.

On the far side of the door they were met by one of the Markarth city guard. He wore dark green livery decorated with a pair of ram’s horns and a closed-faced helm like most of the guards. It occurred to Emily that he had been waiting around for them and was not merely passing through as part of his patrol. He carried a stout handled battle-axe purposefully, the butt of which was planted firmly on the ground, giving him an altogether threatening appearance.

“You,” he said gruffly, “I’ve seen you snooping around, asking questions.” He took a step closer until he was standing almost nose to nose with Emily. “Back..off..,” he said with great deliberation, “You don’t want to know what happens to troublemakers around here.”

“We’re not trying to cause trouble,” said Emily in an attempt to placate the man.

“You’re finding it,” he replied, raising the battle-axe level with her face, “That’s bad enough. This is your last warning, outsider. We keep the peace here. Now stay out of our business.” With that he lowered the battle-axe and strode away without glancing back.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Serana asked once the guard was out of earshot.

“I’ll be fine,” Emily replied, “I’ll meet you at the Warrens once I’ve turned over the information to Eltrys, okay?”

“Alright,” Serana said at length.

As they went their separate ways Emily made her way back up the stone steps on the central crag while Serana followed the sloping road down from the side of the Inn to the river that surged through the riverside district of Markarth. The smell of melting silver coming from the smelters permeated every corner of the district and the smell, like all things pertaining to silver, made Serana distinctly uneasy and perhaps a little nauseous. With any luck, she figured, the information she needed would be ready to hand and she could get out of this festering hole.

The sloping road took her down to an entrance concealed in the shadows much like the entrance to the temple of Talos. The whole area was grubby, a layer of grime clinging to every surface and mingling with the already unpleasant air. She pushed open one of the heavy metal doors and stepped inside.

The air inside the warrens was stagnant and the space before her, though large enough, gave an air of claustrophobia and closeness. Perhaps it was the weight of stone pressing down on her from above. Several fires had been lit to keep its poverty-stricken residents in some semblance of warmth. The residents were dressed mostly in rags or the dirt stained clothes worn by the miners and smelters. One man stood apart from the others. He too was dressed in rags and he was leaning against the wall, watching Serana as she entered the chamber.

“The Warrens isn’t the place for your type,” he said in a low voice, “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for information,” she replied matter-of-factly, “About Weylin. Did you know him?”

“Know him?” said the man, “I know everyone in this godsforsaken pit of Oblivion. I’m sort of the one who hands out the keys around here. Keeps things running smoothly, make sure the skooma addled ones don’t bludgeon one another to death over the last bottle, that sort of thing.”

“I need the keys to Weylin’s room,” Serana replied, taking a step closer to the man.

“Why would I do that?” the man asked, “You don’t exactly belong here, now do you?”

“I wasn’t asking,” Serana replied. The man was starting to irritate her and clearly her irritation was showing.

“Fine, fine, no need to get upset,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his ragged tunic. He pulled out a single iron key and tossed it to her. She caught it and without another word, stalked off down the length of the chamber. She tried the key at each door she came to and it was not until she reached the end of the long corridor that she finally found the lock into which the key would fit. The door ground open and she stepped into the small room the man had once occupied. It was grotty like much of the Warrens and a few patched and stained breeches hung over the chair in the corner. Serana wrinkled her nose up at the rank smell of ale gone bad and began her search of the room. In one corner stood a crudely built cot covered in animal skins. This too was home to some discarded clothes and a few empty ale bottles. A wooden plate with the remains of the man’s last meal lay by the fire and a chest stood in the corner farthest from the firelight. It was this chest that caught her attention. It was not locked and inside she found some old wooden plates, a few more bottles of ale and an old tattered note lying at the bottom. She unfolded the cracked parchment carefully.  
 _  
Weylin,_

_You have been chosen to strike fear in the heart of the Nords. Go to the market tomorrow. You will know what to do.  
-N_

Serana pocketed the piece of parchment and left the room quickly. She tossed the key back to the man by the door as she reached the Warren’s exit.

As she stepped out into the night air she realised she was not alone. A figure stood, silhouetted against the light coming from the smelters. His arms were folded and he was staring straight at her. She recognised him as the man they had seen briefly in the Silver-Blood Inn.

“You’ve been digging around where you don’t belong,” he said, “It’s time you learnt a lesson.” Serana could sense his veins bulging in his bull neck as clearly as she could see his hands clenching into fists. Clearly this was a man who let his fists do more talking than his mouth.

“You first,” she said calmly. Without waiting for further words the man lunged at her. From the very outset she could see that this man was no stranger to fistfights. He swung straight for her jaw and she dodged the blow, aiming one of her own at his gut. This had less effect than she hoped for and the man merely grunted before springing at her again. This time the punch landed and Serana took a step back, raising her arms in defence. The man wasted no time in keeping up the assault but this time Serana was ready. She ducked, rushing forward and swinging upwards, catching him on the jaw. He staggered back and she rushed after him, aiming another punch at his face. This one he blocked and Serana dodged to one side as he aimed another blow at her.

She felt the wood creak under her boots and she glanced back over her shoulder at the grey water surging past her. She ducked again just in time as the man lunged once more. She sidestepped the blow and whirled around to face him. The man looked over the shoulder, suddenly realising the precarious position he found himself in. He looked back in time to see a punch aimed right for his face.

There was a loud splash as his body hit the water and he disappeared below the leaden surface for a moment before resurfacing, spitting out the metal tainted water and scrambling for the wooden docks.

“You mangy bit of pit-bait,” he choked. Serana reached down and grabbed him by the scruff of his jerkin, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Who sent you?” she demanded.

“I was sent by Nepos the Nose,” the man spat, “He gives out the orders. But you’re a fool if you think you can go after him.” Serana said nothing in reply but let go the man’s jerkin and he fell back into the water where he swore, spitting out more of the foul water.

“Good punch,” said a voice behind her and Serana turned to see Emily.

“How long were you watching?” Serana asked slyly of her companion.

“Long enough to see the grand finishing move,” Emily replied, “Did you find anything?”

“We’re looking for a man named Nepos the Nose,” said Serana, ignoring the splashing still coming from the docks behind her as the man scrambled out of the churning waters and slunk off into the darkness like a wounded dog.

“Right,” said Emily, “And Thonar. I spoke with Eltrys. Apparently Thonar is involved in every bit of the city’s business. We’ll need to go to the treasury house if we’re to find him.”

“We’d better go there first then,” Serana replied, “Maybe he can point us in the direction of Nepos the Nose.”

“I hope so,” said Emily, “That doesn’t sound like the kind of name you can just casually drop into a conversation.”

The treasury house was located in the higher reaches of the city, not far from Understone Keep. It was Dwarven-made like all the buildings in Markarth and carried with it an air of opulence not present in most of the other buildings. Serana and Emily pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside. The place was set up very much like a bank which, Emily reminded herself, it essentially was. A counter with wrought iron bars divided the area behind the counter from the rest of the building. An old woman stood in the corner, broom in hand as she swept the floor, humming to herself. An elderly man came in behind them, carrying a load of firewood which he dumped by the fireplace. A woman in a low cut dress stood behind the counter, totting up figures on an abacus. She looked up from her counting and gave them the kind of false smile a bank teller might give an obstreperous customer in order to placate them.

“Sorry, the treasury house is really just for patrons of the Silver-Blood family,” she said, “You don’t belong here.” Emily and Serana were beginning to sense a pattern in the Reach’s attitude to outsiders and it was wearing a bit thin on them both. Ignoring the woman’s words they pressed on.

“We need to see Thonar,” Emily replied. She noticed out of the corner of her eye Serana’s hands making the same deft movements she had seen them make before. The woman’s eyes became lidded, half closed as she spoke.

“Of course you can see Thonar,” she said, “He’s just through there.” She indicated the door over her shoulder. Serana’s hands made another subtle movement. “And of course outsiders are welcome here,” the woman added. Serana smiled a smile of satisfaction at these words.

They left the woman to shake her head a few times before returning to her figures and the abacus still lying on the desk.

Thonar Silver-Blood, a man in his late fifties dressed in finery, sat at the stone table, pouring over a thick volume which lay open before him. He looked up sharply when he heard the door close.

“Who are you?” he demanded, “I told them, no visitors.”

“We’re here to talk about the woman from the marketplace,” said Emily, “The one who was nearly murdered.”

“The Imperial spy?” spat Thonar. It looked at the mild surprise on their faces. “Hah, that’s right. I knew. How many dogs is the Empire going to send after me? This is my city, my business. You Empire lovers would do well to stay out of it. Now, ge-”

He never finished his sentence for a great commotion sprang up outside the doors. Mixed cries and shouts met their ears. She recognised among them the cracked voice of the elderly woman. These shouts were accompanied by the grate of steel on steel. Emily saw Thonar’s eyes widen as he drew a blade from his hip. The three of them rushed towards the doors and they flew open with a bang. On the far side a horrible bloody sight met their eyes. A woman in green finery lay slumped across the table, blood spattering every inch of the stone surface. Her face was hidden by clumps of blood matted hair.

“No, Betrid,” came Thonar’s hoarse response. They hadn’t time to take in the horrific sight for the cries erupted anew at the far end of the treasury house. The two elderly Bretons had closed in on the caged off counter and were trying to gain entry while the woman inside screamed in fright. Drawing her blade Emily ran for the counter while Serana readied a frost spell. The elderly Bretons shifted their attention from the woman when they heard the running footsteps and turned to meet their attackers. The frost spell missed by mere inches and struck the far wall. It was answered in kind by a shock spell which bounced off the counter, striking several of the pots that were lined up neatly on the shelf. They exploded into shards of pottery which littered the floor. Emily dodged to one side as the man lunged at her. His blade struck the stone counter behind her and Emily brought her dagger up to meet him while Serana rounded on the old woman. Thunder cracks echoed throughout the room as lightning arced in all directions. The woman behind the counter dove for cover as a stray bolt struck the counter, setting the countertop, the only bit made from wood, alight. Emily’s blade hit home and the wounded man struck out at her. A blow caught her across the face and she staggered back. Meanwhile another blast of frost struck the woman full in the chest and she crumpled to the ground, wheezing. With a second blow she fell silent and the man soon after.

Emily leant one hand against the counter. Blood was oozing from a cut on her cheek and one of Serana’s hands had been burnt by a stray lightning bolt. Serana extinguished the small fire still burning on the countertop with a blast of frost as Emily turned to the man. She looked from him to the woman lying slumped across the table.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” he replied. He knelt by the body of the woman. “They killed my wife,” he continued, his voice cracked by emotion, “Damn Madanach, damn his Forsworn backside.”

“Who’s Madanach?” Emily asked.

“The King of the Forsworn,” Thonar replied, “I have him rotting away in Cidhna Mine. His men are my puppets, or at least I thought they were.” With that he turned away from them.

“Where can we find Nepos the Nose?” Emily asked. Without meeting their gaze the man replied.

“The third terrace on the North side of the city,” he replied, “You’ll be going to your death if you go after him though.”

“Well, tell us what we need to know about him and you can save us the trip,” Serana suggested.

“Fine,” the man grunted, “He’s my messenger. Carries my orders to Madanach down in the mines. I’ll bet he had a hand in this. I’ll see him hang. By Arkay, I’ll see him hang.” Emily turned to Serana.

“Eltrys needs to hear this,” she said. Serana nodded.

They left the treasury house and hurried down the stone steps towards the plaza. From there they hurried towards the central crag, scrambling up the stone steps. The whole city had gone quiet and when they reached the door, Serana suddenly spoke up.

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

“Huh?” said Emily.

“I don’t know, I’ve just got a bad feeling,” Serana replied, “So temple of no temple, I’m coming with you.” They pushed the door open and stepped inside. The moment the air inside the temple hit them they knew something was wrong. The air reeked of blood and as they advanced along the corridor they saw a figured lying sprawled on the floor at the feet of the statue of Talos.

“Eltrys,” Emily cried, hurrying towards the figure.

“Emily, wait,” Serana called before sprinting after her.

As they neared the corpse three of the Markarth city guard stepped out from behind the stone columns.

“We warned you,” said one, advancing towards them, “But you just had to go and cause trouble. A lot of work you’ve made for us.” He glanced over at the two guards standing off to one side and made a curt signal to them. At this they stood so they flanked him on either side.

“Now we have to pin all these murders on you, silence witnesses, work, work, work.”

“What did you do to Eltrys?” Emily demanded.

“Same thing we do with anyone who wants to change things around here,” the guard replied as the two behind him drew their blades. Emily’s eyes flicked from them to the guard who was still speaking. “We had a nice little deal going on between Thonar and Madanach until you and Eltrys started sniffing around. You wanted to find the man responsible for the murders? You’ll have plenty of time to talk to him in Cidhna Mine. And no one escapes Cidhna Mine, no one.” With that the soldier produced two pairs of bindings. Emily saw Serana out of the corner of her eye reaching for a blade and stopped her, flicking her eyes towards the advancing guard.

She felt her arms being yanked behind her and the bite of the leather as it was tied tightly around her wrists. She was nudged in the small of her back and both she and Serana were led from the Shrine. Navigating the steps outside was difficult and more than once she nearly fell. She felt briefly thankful for the moons still shining above. It had all happened in the space of a matter of hours.

They were led down to the dockside and from here up the steep slope that led into the gaping maw of Cidhna Mine. Down into the darkened tunnels they were led, lit only by a few guttering candles hanging from metal lanterns affixed to the walls. They were met at a metal gate by an Orcish woman in full steel armour.

“Urzoga,” said the guard, “Get these skeevers into the mine, they’re both on life. First meal isn’t for another week.” With that he left, flanked by the other two guards. The Orc scowled at them.

“Alright, prisoners, eyes front. You’re in Cidhna Mine now and we expect you to earn your keep.” She picked up two sets of ragged clothes from the shelf close beside her and tossed them to Emily and Serana. “Now, hand over your weapons,” she said.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little deaf in this ear,” said Serana coolly.

“Don’t get smart with me,” snapped the Orc and she raised a hand, striking Serana on the back of the head. Emily bristled.

“Leave her alone,” she said sharply.

“You seem to think you have a say in what goes on around here,” replied the Orc darkly, “Well, you don’t. I’m in charge around here and if your friend doesn’t want to die before the end of her first day, I suggest she keeps her tongue in her head. Else I’ll cut it out.”

Wordlessly, as she didn’t trust herself to reply, Emily handed over her dagger to the Orc and Serana did the same.

After they’d changed into the ragged clothes and relinquished their worldly possessions they were pushed through the metal gate. It closed behind them and the turning of the key in the lock seemed to echo about them as a stark reminder of their imprisonment.


	9. The King in Rags

They stood for a moment at the top of the wooden scaffolding that overlooked the main chamber of the mine. It was large with a high ceiling and a fire burned at its heart. There was a gate on the far side where a brutish looking giant of an Orc stood guard. His face was painted into the likeness of a skull and he scowled menacingly about him. Those who sat by the fire were thin and pale, hunched over the flames as close as they dared to get. They all avoided the Orc and one another, keeping a distinct distance between one another.

“Why didn’t we fight?” Serana asked her, “Back in the shrine.”

“Those three we could have taken,” Emily replied quietly, “Maybe. But the rest of the town guard. I’m pretty sure the whole guard knew about us by that point. We’d never have made it to the gates alive.”

“I guess we’ll have to find some way out of here then,” said Serana, resting her hands on the wooden railings, “They’ve put us in a death trap. We’ll have to watch where we step.”

“The silver?” Emily asked. Serana nodded. Emily edged a little nearer, resting her head against Serana’s shoulder.

“Right, I guess we should start planning our escape,” she said as calmly as though they were merely planning a weekend away. Serana turned to her.

“Alright, let’s get to know the other inmates,” she said, “Find out what we’re dealing with here.”

They descended the wooden slatted slope until they reached the fire pit in the centre of the room. A man sitting by the fire looked up at them as they approached. He had a few teeth missing and a head of short grey hair. He was as thin as a rake and his eyes were sunken.

“So, you’re the new lifers,” he said, looking them up and down, “Different than I imagined but who am I to judge?”

“We need to see Madanach,” said Serana, “Can you tell us where we can find him?”

“I can,” the man replied, “But no one gets to see Madanach.”

“Why’s that?” Emily asked. The man turned to face her.

“Because he stays locked in his cell, that’s why,” he replied, “The only ones who get to see him are Thonar’s little messengers and, from what I understand, that partnership has been dissolved.”

“You’re right,” Emily replied, “But we need to see him all the same.”

“If you want to see Madanach you’ll need to get past Borkul the Beast,” said the man, indicating the Orc standing by the iron gate. He was wearing a curiously amused smile as he spoke, “But I would advise against that. I heard he once ripped a man’s arm off and beat him to death with it. He’s old-fashioned like that.” Emily blanched at the thought but turned to Serana.

“I don’t think we’ve an awful lot of choice,” she said. They left the fireside and approached the Orc standing by the gate. He looked up when he saw them and an ugly grin spread across his tusked features.

“Ahh, the new meat,” he said, “So soft, tender. Tell me, what was it like killing your first one?”

“I don’t like killing,” came Emily’s response, “If I could have avoided it I would have.”

“Pah, weak, the gods put killers on Nirn to fill their halls with souls,” he replied, “You can’t carry that burden, then you’re weak.”

“As thrilling as it would be to get into a theological discussion with you on the necessity of murderers, we have more pressing matters,” said Serana, folding her arms and meeting the Orc’s gaze.

“Now you, I like,” grinned the Orc, showing off his tusks.

“Save your compliments,” said Serana, “We need to see Madanach.”

“You want to see, Madanach, you have to pay the toll,” replied the Orc, his grin vanishing, “One shiv.”

“Fine,” said Serana, “We’ll get you your shiv.”

“What’s a shiv?” Emily asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“A small blade, easy to conceal,” Serana explained, “Someone in here is bound to have one.”

“Did I hear you say you need a shiv?” asked the prisoner sitting by the fire, “Grisvar usually has a spare. Paranoid old Nord dreads the day his usefulness is at an end. You can find him up the other end of the mine. Keeps to himself, doesn’t talk to anyone. Good luck.”

Off from the main chamber ran two stone tunnels that each led down deeper into the mines. As they left the main chamber they could feel the weight of the stone pressing in on them from all sides. The tunnels were lit by pale candlelight and here and there moss grew out from in between the cracks, signally the presence of small deposits of underground water. They found Grisvar, a balding old Nord, toiling at the far end of the tunnel. Emily could see the glint of silver glimmering from between the rocks he was striking at with his pickaxe.

“Grisvar?” asked Emily as they reached him.

“Depends on who’s asking,” replied the man without breaking from his work.

"We need a shiv,” said Emily, “We were told you might have one.”

“You were told correct,” Grisvar replied, “So, you want to protect yourself. Well, I think I can get you what you need. But perhaps you could do something for me first.”

“What exactly do you need?” Emily asked.

“Duach has a bottle of skooma, the good stuff,” Grisvar explained, “I’m shaking just thinking about it.” Emily remembered what skooma was; a narcotic, deceptively dangerous to those who drank of it. Now that she looked at Grisvar she could see the mark it had left in the way his hands shook as he held the pick and in his pallid face with its sunken eyes which twitched nigh constantly. Emily saw their was little to be done to help the poor wretch so they agreed to his demands.

They found Duach at the opposite end of the mine. He had taken a break from mining and now rested with his back to the wall. He was one of the younger inmates and though bowed his spirit was not yet broken. He had dark hair and eyes and watched their approach warily.

“Other prisoners get suspicious if they see us talking,” he said, “Makes them think we’re plotting something. What do you want?”

“We heard you might have a bottle of skooma,” said Serana.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, who’s asking for it?” Duach asked.

Before Serana could reply Emily blurted out, “M-me,” she said. Her entire demeanour had changed. She was stooped and trembling from head to foot. Her eyes had gone wide and staring.

“I haven’t had any in near over a week,” she continued, tugging at the skin of her face and trembling all the more.

“Your need is greater than mine then, friend,” said Duach, reaching into one of his pockets and dropping a small purple vial into Emily’s trembling hands, “Old gods keep you.”

“Th-thank you,” she said, “Thank you.”

As they left the tunnel Emily’s trembling ceased on the instant and she looked up at the vampiress.

“That sound alright?” she asked, “Or was I a little overdramatic?”

“Perhaps the stammer was a bit overplayed,” Serana replied with a slight smile, “Otherwise, not bad.”

They took the bottle of skooma back to Grisvar who handed them a small blade made from sharpened flint whose handle was wrapped tightly in strips of cloth.

“Promise me you won’t use it on me,” he said as Emily slipped it onto her belt.

“You have my word,” she replied.

They left Grisvar and returned to the main chamber where they handed it over to the brutish Orsimer.

“Fine, a deal’s a deal,” he said as he dropped the key into Emily’s outstretched hand, “But you watch yourself around Madanach, he knows more than you think.”

“We’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Serana said coolly as Emily unlocked the gate. She deposited the key into her pocket as they made their way along the narrow tunnel. They passed a locked iron gate through which a faint breeze was blowing. It ruffled their hair and made the candles in their lanterns waver.

At the far end of the tunnel they came to a small chamber. It was furnished with a bed, a writing desk and a chair. Seated at the writing desk was a man with long white hair and a scraggy whiskered moustache. He did not look up from his writing but a momentary pause in his writing signalled that he’d taken note of their presence.

“Well, well, look at you,” he said, “The Nords have turned you into an animal. A wild beast caged up and left to go mad.” He stopped writing and turned to face them.

“So, my fellow beast,” he continued, “What do you want? Answers about the Forsworn? Revenge for trying to have you killed?”

“Speak for yourself,” Serana replied, an edge to her voice, “The only animal I see here is you.”

“Hmph,” he grunted, “Your kind are a blight on this land, Nord. You don’t even see the suffering your kind cause.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all this before,” Serana replied, rolling her eyes, “Blight on the land and all that.”

Madanach cast her such an ugly look that Emily distinctly wished she still had her blade. “We just want our freedom,” she blurted out.

“You want freedom?” said Madanach quietly, “Well, so do we. I can help you get your freedom but only when you understand our cause. Speak to Braig and you will see how widespread the injustice of Markarth is.” With that he returned to his writing. Serana and Emily retreated back a little ways along the tunnel. Already Emily could see that Serana had no interest in hearing what this Braig had to say and, honestly, neither did she. Nothing could justify what had almost come to pass in the marketplace or the events that followed any more than she could justify the idea taking form in her mind.

Serana caught her glance and, knowing what the Earthling was thinking, nodded. Her palms crackled with energy as they turned back towards Madanach’s cell.

The old Reachman was ready for them as they rounded the corner, lightning flashing from their hands. He readied a ward which blocked their magicks, drawing a shiv from his belt as he rushed them. Already Emily could hear shouts and outcries coming from the other prisoners back in the main chamber as they leapt to their King’s defence. Serana ducked as the King in Rags made a slash at her throat before loosing another bolt of lightning. Sparks arced about the room, smashing bottles perched on the old barrels in the corner, scorching the desk and ricocheting off the metal gate that stood just a little way back along the tunnel. In his hurry to close the distance between them Madanach had left himself exposed. Emily loosed a bolt of energy which struck him full in the chest. With a groan he toppled to the earth. Emily hurriedly fished about in his pockets as the shouts from outside grew louder. In their haste to reach their King the Reachmen had hindered themselves, blundering into the tunnel and quickly blocking it with their bodies. They caught sight of the two vampiresses as the shorter of the two was fumbling with the lock of the gate. The nearest yelled and brandished a shiv, his bearded face a mask of fury.

“Come on,” Emily said through gritted teeth, eyes feverishly flicking between the key in the lock to the approaching Reachmen, “Open already.” Serana loosed a bolt of lightning that struck the nearest prisoner. He staggered back, crying out in a mixture of pain and anger.

“What’s the hold up?” Serana asked between casting spells.

“The stupid key won’t turn,” Emily grunted, wrenching at the key, “Come on, damn you.” Finally, with a rusty ker-chunk, the key turned and the gate swung open. Firing one last burst of lightning, they hurtled off down the tunnel.

Their footsteps echoed in the tunnel and the outcries gradually faded from earshot. They noticed, as they ran, that sticking out of the walls and floor were strangely carved rocks and chunks of bronze metal. They came to a halt briefly next to one such chunk of metal. Emily leant against the wall, resting a hand on her chest as she peered back around the corner.

“Phew,” she said, sinking to the ground. She looked around. “Dwemer ruins,” she said.

“I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised,” Serana replied, “The whole city’s built into the ruins of Nchuand-Zel, an ancient Dwemer city.”

“Which reminds me,” said Emily, “We’ve still got the same problem as before: getting through the city unscathed, only,” she tugged at her ragged clothes, “Only now we’re more conspicuous and vulnerable than ever.”

“Conspicuous maybe,” said Serana, “But not vulnerable. We still have our magic.” She held out a hand to Emily. “Come on, we’d better keep moving.”

Emily took her hand and they set off again down the tunnels. The deeper they went the more the earth and rock of the tunnel gave way to Dwemer stone and metal until at last they came to a great bronze door. The tunnel had subsided over the centuries and the door was at an angle. Emily tugged at it, fearing at first that it might not open. At last, with both of them heaving at it, it creaked open and they stepped into the darkness beyond.

Their eyes quickly grew accustomed to the gloom. Ahead they could see the eerie turquoise glow of a Dwemer gas lamp and the rubble strewn floor lit by the pale glow. The ruins they found themselves in were littered with the remains of Dwemer furniture; spindly legged dressers and chairs, tattered banners inscribed with the insignia of the Dwemer and bronze shelving lying half buried in the rubble. In some areas the walls had fallen in and had been partially reclaimed by the natural caverns and tunnels.

At one point they found themselves standing before a tall ledge lit by a brazier that evidently had not come from the time of the Dwemer. Emily stood at the foot of the ledge and knelt down, giving Serana a boost up onto the ledge. The vampiress then turned and took hold of Emily’s hand, pulling her up after her.

“Do you think we’ve lost them yet?” Emily asked. Serana stared back the way they’d come.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “But I don’t think we want to wait around to find out.”

“Right,” said Emily as she made her way onward into the tunnels, “Where do you think these ruins go?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Serana replied, “Best care scenario: they head right outside Markarth and we don’t have to worry about our escape.”

“We’ll be outlaws, you know,” said Emily.

“Only in the Reach,” Serana replied as she picked her way over a boulder, “The Jarls of Skyrim only track crimes within their own hold. Only something as serious as murdering the High King like our good friend Ulfric will gain you the attention of all of Skyrim.”

They came to a section of the ruins that was thick with webbing. Emily took a deep breath. “I hate spiders,” she muttered under her breath as they passed under some trailing lengths of web that hung from the ceiling in sheets. The first spider they came to was a dead one, legs curled in tightly on themselves as it lay on its back in the corner. Even in death the sight of the arachnid made Emily shudder instinctively. They could hear heavy footed scuttling coming from further along the tunnel and she and Serana readied a lightning spell. Emily was carrying the shiv she had recovered from Madanach’s body but it would be a pretty poor weapon, she realised, against most that they were likely to encounter underground.

The spiders occupied a large cavern. On the far side they could see another tunnel leading off. Emily watched the spiders for several moments. It looked to her that they hadn’t yet spotted them though with their eight beady eyes it was hard to tell. She dispelled the lightning from her palm and instead focused on sensations of vanishing, of becoming indistinct and unreal. Serana followed suit as her companion vanished from sight, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air. They crept around the perimeter of the cavern, past the spiders. At the slightest sound they stopped and watched the arachnids but each time the spiders seemed not to have taken them under their notice.

At last they reached the tunnel and crept up the worn steps. They shimmered back into visibility as they reached the top and beheld the chamber they now stood in. Partially in ruins, it looked to have once been a grand walkway with a stone platform running along its heart. It was lit on either side by braziers set at the top of stone pillars. Bronze piping ran across the room from one side to the other and from the ceiling down past the walkway to the floor below. There was a centurion holding rig set up at the far end of the walkway but this was mercifully empty. The ceiling above them was uneven and bulging with several rocks packed together in such a way that they looked as though the slightest movement would jar them loose and bring them crashing down onto the walkway. They crept warily beneath this, looking up at the rocks as they passed by. The air in the cavern was stifling as steam still gushed from some of the metal grills on the pipes. But cutting through the heat was a cooler gust of air. It smelt fresh, it smelt of life. They made their way down off the walkway and followed the final tunnel upwards.

At last it brought them to a bronze door like the one they had entered the ruins by. It was from here that the fresh air was emanating from, blowing in under the door and through the cracks. Emily signalled to Serana to stand back before tugging at the door. She opened it a crack and peered out.

“Damn,” she swore under her breath as the wind ruffled her hair, “We’re still in the city.” Serana came up behind her and peered out. It was nighttime and the streets were cloaked in darkness. From here they could see the steps that led to the temples of Talos and Dibella.

“Alright, I think our best bet would be to go down by the riverside district and out through the gates from there,” she whispered, “We’ll blend in more with the beggars in these rags.” Emily nodded.

They stepped out of the door and closed it behind them before edging along the street. They had not gone far when a voice from the shadows stopped them in their tracks. It was a voice they recognised and they turned to see the nobleman from the treasury house standing in the shadow of one of the pillars.

“My eyes inside Cidhna Mine tell me that Madanach is dead,” he said, “You’ve done the Silver-Bloods a great service. I’ve had the Jarl give you an official pardon, both of you and I’ve taken care of a few other loose ends.”

“So, we’re free to go?” Emily asked.

“As free as anyone else in this world is,” Thonar replied, “Here, take this, it’s my family’s ring. Consider it compensation for having you unlawfully imprisoned. And here, all your gear, everything the guards took from you, including your curious Dwemer bracelet.” He was holding up Emily’s watch. Emily accepted the ring and their belongings from the man. Truth be told she wanted to hit him and one glance at Serana told her she wasn’t the only one. But, she figured, it might be a better plan to get out of this city without any more incident and so she let the man walk away.

They retreated back into the alcove to pull their armour on over the ragged clothes. Emily pulled on her boots and refastened her watch about her wrist.

“Come on, I think we can make it to Karthwasten by daybreak,” she said as Serana belted her dagger at her hip, “I don’t know about you but I don’t want to spend a minute longer here than we have to.”

“Agreed,” Serana replied as they descended the stone steps and made for the city gates.

“Looks like we’re back to square one,” said Emily as they passed through the gates and into the chill night air, “With poor Eltrys dead, we’re not going to get our hands on that stone. Got any ideas?”

“I think for now we’ll just leave it,” Serana replied, “Let’s get to Karthwasten first, have a decent rest, a bath and then we can think about stone.”

Karthwasten was a small mining settlement Northeast of Markarth. The journey took them along a cobblestone road that overlooked a ravine. At the bottom of the ravine the Northern Karth river surged. A great storm had set in a few days ago during their journey to Markarth and now the rivers were bulging, close to bursting their banks. They had heard the rain as they camped out in a cave not far from the river and listened to it lashing off the cobblestones and the wind as it shook the branches of the juniper trees.

They met no one on the road to Karthwasten and it was very nearly dawn before they reached the base of the hill on which the village was located. Emily felt relief at the sight of the lights winking at them from the windows and smoke coming up from the chimneys. The Inn was located on the edge of town, close to the mines and served as a boarding house for the workers as well as any passing travellers. The innkeeper was an old Orc with a rotund belly and dark whiskery sideburns set on either side of a large jaw with two protruding tusks. He was an amiable enough sort particularly once the rooms had been paid for and after Emily handed him a small pouch of gold coins he showed them to a room in the back, close to the kitchens. The room was warm and the bed, though a little shabby, was comfortable enough. A wooden tub stood in one corner and as neither felt inclined to wait for the other to bathe, they both elected to save the hot water and bath together.

Emily sank back into the bubbles with a contented sigh, closing her eyes.

“What a day,” she said. It was strange to think that all that had come to pass had taken place in just over a day, from the attempted murder in the marketplace to their imprisonment and finally their escape. “I’m glad we didn’t think to try and build our house out here.”

“Mmm,” came Serana’s response. She had taken a book from her bag and was reading, taking care to keep the pages far from the water. On a sudden impulse she leaned over, resting her head on Serana’s shoulder.

“What shall we do tonight, Sera?” she asked, “Stay here or shall we just go home?” As she closed her eyes she felt an arm about her shoulders.

“We’ll see what tonight brings, Em,” Serana replied, “Maybe someone here can provide us with the stone we need.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Emily said dozily as sleep began to take hold and she nodded off against the vampiress’ shoulder.


	10. The Wolf Queen Returns

It was late in the evening when there came a knock at the door. Serana raised her head from the pillow. Her mind felt hazy and it took her a moment to remember where she was. She got up, the furs slipping from her as she rose from the bed and headed for the door to their room. Whoever it was, was very insistent upon being heard. It was a wonder they hadn’t woken the old Orcish innkeeper. She crossed the room to the front door and pulled it open. Standing on the porch was a young man in his late twenties with ginger hair and beard. He wore a patched and frayed jerkin and breeches and carried a worn looking satchel.

“I have a letter here for Mistresses Emily and Serana,” he said, pulling a letter from the satchel.

“I’m Serana,” said Serana. She reached into her purse and took out five gold septims, dropping them into the waiting hand of the courier before taking the letter. She recognised the official seal of Solitude and after closing the door she made her way back to the room she shared with Emily. She nudged her companion as she sat down on the bed and Emily rolled over, yawning.

“What is it?” she asked.

“We’ve got a letter,” Serana replied, “From Solitude.” Emily pushed herself up into a sitting position and took the letter from Serana.

“How did they find us all the way out here?” she asked. Serana shrugged her shoulders.

“A clairvoyance spell of some sort I imagine,” she replied, “Or an item enchanted with such an effect.” Emily opened the letter and scanned the writing.

“Oh dear,” she said. She looked over at Serana. “We’d better head back to Solitude. Potema’s returned.”

As soon as they had dressed they left the Inn. Emily summoned Arvak once they had left the village behind and they galloped off into the night.

It took them four nights to reach the city of Solitude and as they drew near Emily was relieved to see no ghosts wailing about or zombies trying to knock down the doors or whatever you would expect to see when an undead necromancer queen was trying to take the city.

They left Arvak out past the watchtower and ran the rest of the way on foot.

“We need to speak to Falk Firebeard,” they demanded of the guard outside the Blue Palace, “It’s urgent!” After showing the guard the official seal he quickly opened the door and let them in without another word.

They found Falk Firebeard pacing the floor of the foyer and he looked up and breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of them. “Good, you got my letter,” he said.

“Where’s the Wolf Queen?” Emily asked, “Has she made it into the city yet?”

“Not yet,” Falk replied, “It seems that by interrupting the ritual she hasn’t returned to full power. All would have already been lost if she had so we’ve been granted that small mercy at least.”

“So, in what kind of form has she returned?” Emily asked.

“Spirit form,” Falk replied, “She’s fled to her old catacombs where many who were loyal to her in life are now buried.”

“So she’s got her own little army down there?” said Serana, “Perfect.”

“You’ll have to talk to Styrr,” Falk explained, “He’s the head priest of Arkay down in the Hall of the Dead. He’ll know how best to deal with Potema.”

“Right,” Emily replied, “We’d better go at once.”

The Hall of the Dead was located in a small chapel not far from the Blue Palace. In the grounds was a large cemetery where many of Solitude’s citizens had been buried over the centuries. Flowers lay on the graves of some and nightshade grew wild among the headstones. Cemeteries were eerie places to Emily, filled with a kind of great unknowing she could not describe and she could not recall ever having walked into one willingly before. She pushed open the small wooden door at the side of the building and they stepped inside.

Styrr was an old man, stooped and bald with a wrinkled face and a dry cracked voice.

“I see,” was all he said when they explained their reason for being there. He turned to a bookcase then and began scanning the rows of books, running his finger along the line of dusty tomes. Then he pulled one down and handed it to Emily.

“You may find this spell useful,” he said, “As I’m sure Falk Firebeard will have told you, she’s gone to her old catacombs. A deadly necromancer in life and in death, she will have her followers at her disposal.”

“So we heard,” said Serana, “And how do we get into these catacombs?”

“Normally I’d tell you, you can’t,” said Styrr, “They were sealed off after she was buried. I’m sure you can imagine why.” Emily nodded. “But one of her followers broke through into the Temple of the Divines,” Styrr continued, “We locked off that area.” He took a key from his robes and dropped it into Serana’s hand.

“You’ll need this to get in,” he said, “You’ll need to recover her remains and bring them to me to be sanctified by Arkay. But watch out, even in spirit, Potema is a force to be reckoned with. I wish you both luck.”

“Thank you,” said Emily before she and Serana turned and left the Hall of the Dead.

Emily looked at the cover of the book Styrr had given them as they made their way along the city streets.

“Turn undead,” she said, “Sera, can we use this? Being undead ourselves?”

“It can be done,” Serana replied, “But it would be difficult. We’d be fighting against our own nature to cast it.”

“Right, so just stick with lightning and frost then?” Emily asked. Serana nodded. “Will you be alright?” Emily asked, “Going through the temple I mean. Or would you rather wait behind?”

“Not happening,” Serana replied without hesitation, “Potema’s dangerous. I mean, she could teach my mother a thing or two about necromancy and that’s saying something. I’m sure I can stand a few minutes under a temple roof.”

They climbed the stone steps next to the entrance to Castle Dour. The streets were quiet and the two legionnaires they saw standing on either side of the ornate metal doors were the only souls they encountered on their journey to the temple. The temple was a grand building with great stained glass windows and tall arching doors. Its spires reached high above the city, competing with even the Blue Palace for importance.

Emily pushed open one of the great heavy doors. The interior was lit by candles of all sizes on spindly curved stands. They stood on the tables and shelves, casting a dim orange glow about the upper levels. Emily looked back at the vampiress who hesitated on the threshold. On catching her gaze Serana smiled reassuringly but Emily saw the unease showing through. She took her hand and together they stepped across the threshold, allowing the heavy door to close behind them.

They followed the candles down a flight of stone steps to the main chamber. As the hour was late many of the priests had retired for the night. One remained, praying at the shrine of Arkay that stood in the alcove alongside the other shrines dedicated to the Eight Divines. Emily quietly approached the man.

“We’re here about Potema,” she said in a hushed voice. She was quickly realising that this was a name not to be spoken lightly.

The priest looked up quickly. “Good,” he said, “Falk told me he’d sent for someone. I certainly hope you can put a stop to this.” He led them to an area apart from the rest of the temple. Barring their way was a locked gate. Beyond the gate the wall had been knocked down and in the rubble strewing the floor was the body of a draugr, its desiccated face drawn back in a soundless snarl. Serana put the key in the lock and opened the gate. They passed through and locked the gate behind them. Then, bidding the priest farewell, began their trek down into the catacombs.

The corridors they found themselves in were evidently ancient though built in the same recognisable style as much of Solitude’s interiors; the same solid bricks wedged and sealed tightly together. Ceramic pots with long dead shrubs decorated the ends of the corridors, their spindly withered limbs grasping at the air like old knobbly fingers. Cobwebs and dust lay thick on every surface and here and there a rat dodged away, squeaking loudly, from the magelight Emily had conjured on her palm. It looked as though, once upon a time, this area had been used for storage as there were a great many crates and barrels piled up along the walls. Moss hung from the archways as they made their way through them. Ahead Emily saw the way was blocked by iron bars and she shone her magelight about, looking for a switch or a lever that might aid them in their path. The light fell upon a strange carving of a woman in flowing robes and a hood bearing the likeness of a wolf. She had a stern arrogant face and held her arms in a commanding gesture as her followers brought her treasures and gifts.

A sudden icy wind blew through the otherwise still catacombs and a voice echoed around her. “You’ve arrived at last,” it said, “The heroines who prevented me from being bound return to my fold. I have much to thank you for, little ones. When you die I will raise you and you can take your place by my side.”

“You’re a little late, Wolf Queen,” Serana spoke up, “A thousand years too late.” Emboldened by Serana’s words Emily too spoke. “We’re here to stop you.”

“That is what you think, little one,” the Wolf Queen replied, “But soon you will see things my way.” As the voice faded, the iron bars slid away and they continued on into the darkness.

They had not gone far when they heard a growl in the darkness and Emily turned to see a draugr looming up out of the shadows, blue eyes burning in the pitch blackness. He carried a battle axe which he was raising above his head. Emily leapt to one side, drawing her dagger as Serana followed suit. The axe came crashing down where they had been standing mere moments before and a wave of sparks flew out in all directions. Emily seized her chance and loosed a bolt of lightning at the draugr. It rippled across its dry cracked skin and it gave a roar of pain, wheeling around and running at her. Emily changed tact, dodging behind a stack of crates as the draugr lunged again. It did not get far as a second bolt slammed into it from behind and it collapsed with a moan.

Emily stepped over the draugr and followed Serana down the tunnels. The tunnels were long and winding, lit here and there by a few pale candles. Emily found herself wondering how far below the city they had gone. At the end of one of the corridors water was cascading down one of the walls and it pooled about their boots.

“I wonder where this water’s coming from,” said Emily.

“Best not to ask that,” Serana replied, “Solitude’s one of the few cities in Skyrim to have a full working sewage system.” Emily wrinkled her nose at the possibility.

“The less said the better then,” she said as they sloshed through the water and headed down the steps. This brought them to a darkened room and Emily halted in the doorway, signalling for Serana to do the same. She pointed to the draugr standing at the far end of the hall before retrieving Auriel’s bow and nocking an arrow. The air whistled and there was a burst of light as the arrow struck the draugr which crumpled to the ground.

“What was that?” came a voice from down the stairs just beyond and there came a sound like a chiming bell. The draugr they had just felled was surrounded by blue swirling light that slowly lifted it to its feet.

“Damn it,” muttered Serana, “Looks like some of our own have moved in here.” Then Emily spotted the Dunmeri vampiress, flanked by the draugr she had enthralled. Red light spilled from her palm and Emily hurriedly summoned a ward. The ward shattered and a moment later the light struck her. She felt it pulling at her as she dodged behind a pillar, breaking contact. She summoned a bolt of lightning on her palm and leapt out, launching it at the vampiress. It missed, striking the wall behind her. Serana closed in on the draugr and slashed out with her blade. The blow tore a great gash in the draugr’s chest and it staggered back, its body turning to ashes as the spell over it wavered and broke. Then the two of them rounded on the vampiress. The Dunmeri vampiress’ eyes flicked between them as the red light danced on her palms. Suddenly she vanished from sight and they heard running footsteps closing in on them. Serana struck out at the air with her blade and Emily saw a splatter of blood erupt from the empty air. Then the vampiress reappeared, sprawling out on the ground, blood pooling on the stone floor.

With the Dunmeri vampiress dead they made their way down the wooden stairs to what looked to have once been a dining area of sorts. Crudely built wooden chairs were stacked upon a wooden table and the floor was covered in a thick film of oil which dripped from the hanging lantern swaying on a rope above them. Ahead of them lay another iron gate and beyond that the seemingly never ending tunnels continued. On one of the walls a draugr stood in the traditional Nord burial pose, crossed by two ancient-looking battleaxes that seemed more ornamental than functional. The floor in front of the corpse was raised slightly and Emily could see the vents in between the stone slabs, betraying a fire trap’s position. They avoided it and continued on. An iron portcullis momentarily stopped their progress until Serana spotted the lever hidden in the shadows.

Presently the manmade stone corridors briefly gave way to natural caverns. Moss grew on the rocks and a beam of moonlight shone through a hole in the ceiling.

“We must be in the rock archway itself now,” Emily said as she rested a hand on the rock wall. Serana listened, putting out a hand to stop her. She motioned towards the shadows and Emily saw two pinpricks of red light: another vampire. Carefully she slipped her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, squinting into the shadows. The air whistled and their came a low moan as the arrow found its mark and the vampire slumped to the ground, allowing them to continue on.

Past the dead vampire the cavern gave way once more to stone corridors dimly lit by candles in small metal lanterns. The ground underfoot was wet and ahead Emily saw the shimmer of water. The lower half of the chamber was completely submerged. The water was still and stagnant, filling the air with a dank odour that clung to their noses. Emily covered her mouth and nose with her cloak as they walked alongside the body of water. As Serana took a step closer to the light that lay ahead of them she felt the ground move unnervingly below her boot and there was an audible click. As something flashed in her peripheral vision she grabbed Emily and darted back. There was a whoosh of stale air and a spiked gate swung round, crashing into the stone pillar and jarring loose small bits of stone and grit.

“You alright?” Serana asked Emily.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Emily replied, “Close one, that. I guess they didn’t want anyone coming down here to steal any treasures Potema might’ve had.”

Again the manmade stone tunnels gave way to a natural cavern, larger than the one before. They stood with their boots peeking over the edge of the ledge, looking down into the water far below. Ahead, at the far end of the cavern, they could see a structure much older than anything they had encountered thus far. It reminded Emily of the old Nordic barrows she had seen on her previous adventures with the vampiress; the nigh circular entranceways and ridged grey stone that lined them.

“Looks like the only way is down,” she said, turning her attention back to the water. Serana nodded.

“On the count of three?” said Emily, “1…2…3!” And with that they leapt from the ledge. The air rushed past them as they fell and the water seemed to rise to meet them. It was cold and seeped deep into Emily’s armour. This water, too, was stagnant and Emily quickly scrambled to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out. She felt a bath would definitely be welcome after this venture. She turned back to the pool and reached out, grasping Serana’s hand and pulling her from the murky water.

“Disgusting,” she said, spitting out a mouthful of the fetid water, “Potema had better appreciate all we went through to reach her.”

The Nordic barrow was a stark contrast to the tunnels and caverns they had passed through. It was much darker with fewer candles to light the way. Even their vampiric senses were having difficulty in seeing into the farthest corners and Emily had conjured a ball of magelight that she now bounced on her palm. The entrance was protected by a stone wheel with a gate set into it and a lever sat on a pedestal. Unlike most levers she had encountered this one could move in either direction and controlled the direction the stone wheel slowly spun in, grinding against the wide stone groove it was set into. As Emily pulled the lever in one direction the wheel began to slowly revolve. The sound of the stone grated on her ears and she was glad when the metal gate came into sight and opened, allowing her to return the lever to its original position and halt the motion of the wheel. Ahead of them a fire burned brightly in a brazier and Emily dispelled the magelight as she stepped through the archway. There were carvings on the walls on either side of them and Serana stopped, examining one of them. Emily joined her. The carving was similar to the one they had found in the corridor where they’d heard Potema’s voice. A woman with a hard stern face presiding over her followers as they brought her tribute. Each section of wall was covered in carvings of this nature.

“We must be getting close,” she said. At the heart of the chamber, in front of the fire, was an alchemy lab like the one she’d often used at Angeline’s Aromatics.

“Was she an alchemist too?” she asked Serana.

“Likely,” Serana replied, “A lot of the rituals performed by necromancers require at least a basic knowledge of alchemy. The proper preparation of bone meal and certain oils and unguents needed to prepare an ancient body for reanimation.”

At the far end of the long chamber was a heavy iron door. The ancient stone corridors that lay beyond were more unkempt than the ones they had just passed through. Moss grew on every surface and the stones they walked upon were cracked and uneven. Parts of the tunnels lay in ruin, rubble strewing the floor and cobwebs hung in thick swathes from the ceiling. A great rumbling could be heard in the distance and they followed it until they came to a tunnel blocked by three revolving doors set in motion.

“How long must this mechanism have been running?” said Emily as she rested a hand on the nearest lever, “We’re lucky it’s still going. I guess these Nordic contraptions were built to last. You’re lucky if your average earth gizmo lasts two years.” One by one she moved the levers to their central position, bringing the revolving gates to a halt.

In the chamber beyond Serana slid her bow from her back and pointed towards the far end of the room. Floating above two pedestals were a pair of purple soul gems, glimmering in the candlelight as they bobbed up and down. Serana had explained the soul based traps to her before. They would loose one of the basic elements of destruction magic when they detected movement. Unfortunately, fire was a favoured element. Emily drew her bow and shot the first gem off its pedestal while Serana took out the second. They recovered the gems and put them in their pack before continuing on.

“I wonder how much further we still have to go,” asked Emily, “We must be really deep below the city by now.”

“Halt immortal,” said a voice from further along the tunnel. Ahead it opened out into a wide chamber and a man, evidently a vampire, in full steel armour was addressing them.

“You’ve come far,” he continued, “No doubt you seek to enter Potema’s sanctum. I can see to that.”

“Why do I get the impression you aren’t just going to lead us meekly there,” said Emily as she raised her bow.

“Correct, immortal,” he replied, drawing a blade and advancing on them, “We’ll need plenty of fresh corpses to rebuild her army. And they don’t get much fresher than yours.” Then he lunged. Emily dropped to one side, swapping her bow for her blade as he swung at her. Serana rushed him, her blade crashing down on his armoured back. He rounded on her and Emily saw her chance, jamming her blade into the unarmoured gap at the back of his knee. He yelled, doubling over in pain and grasping hold of his knee. In the instant that he dropped his blade Serana rammed hers home just above his breastplate. He scrabbled at the blade for a few seconds before going limp and sliding off the end with a moan.

When his twitching stilled they turned their attention to the heavy wood and metal doors. On the far side was a tunnel which led down a steep incline to another door made entirely from metal, carved into intricate patterns.

“I think we’re here,” said Serana as she rested a hand against the door, pushing it open. Emily shifted her dagger in her hands, taking a deep breath as they stepped over the threshold. They crept through the dusty catacombs, dry as the bones of the dead it housed and ridden with cobwebs. Emily found herself wondering how anything much could survive so deep underground. There was a fire burning in a brazier set on top of what looked to be an altar. She kept close to Serana as they followed the corridors further into the Sanctum. As another door was opened she recoiled slightly. The floor before her was littered with corpses. Most of them were draugr, easily told apart from the vampires by their desiccated flesh and ancient raddled armour. The gate on the far side was locked tight.

“There must be some sort of lever around here somewhere,” said Serana as her eyes scanned the walls.

“Not much further, little things,” came the voice of the Wolf Queen, breaking the silence within the sanctum, “Come, serve me in death.” As the voice faded away once more blue energies emanated from the carving on the wall, undulating about them and three of the corpses littering the floor. A vampire and two draugr rose from their eternal slumber, drawing their blades and fixing them with an ice cold stare. The draugr uttered warning growls, flanking the vampire on either side. Emily and Serana backed toward one another, eyeing their opponents. The vampire seemed the biggest threat, more sure in his movements. Red energies pulsated around his palms. Emily hurriedly brought up a ward as the red energy gushed forth. It struck the ward and rippled across its surface. Serana turned her attention to the first draugr as it advanced on them, raising its sword above its head.

“Unslaad krosis,” it bellowed. Serana brought her blade up to meet its sword and pushed against it, throwing it off balance. She lunged forward, plunging her dagger into its chest. It roared, thrashing about and Serana held on like grim death until it staggered and fell. She retrieved her dagger and turned on the second one as a bolt of lightning struck the vampire, knocking him back against the wall. Emily rounded on the second draugr, lightning still leaping from her palms.

The final draugr fell shortly after and the gate opened, allowing them passage. As Emily dispelled the lightning on her palms she became aware of a new energy. It filled every passage of the ancient sanctum and made the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck stand on end. It was the same energy she had felt each time the Wolf Queen spoke to them. The source of the energy was close by and as they opened the final door they saw her. She hovered above the ground in the centre of the burial chamber, blue energies surrounding her formless body. They could not make out any discernible features as they stared up at the spirit. Then the spirit spoke and her voice seemed to emanate from every corner of the room at once.

“You’ve come far, immortals,” she said and Emily got the distinct impression that the spirit was smiling, a grim smile of expectation, “But can you stand against my inner council? Let’s see.” At her words three draugr rose to meet them and the spirit began to circle overhead, loosing streams of lightning which bounced off the walls and floors, electrifying every surface. The ledge on which they stood split in two before them and along the walls on either side sat iron sarcophagi. It was from there that Potema’s inner council was stirring. Emily and Serana split up, each taking one side of the ledge. The first draugr that rose to meet them just as quickly fell and were just as quickly replaced. As Emily plunged her dagger into one she turned and recoiled to see one she had defeated only moments before regaining its feet, blue energies swirling about it.

Emily looked to Serana and saw that she was in a similar situation. They would be quickly overrun at this rate. She beat back another draugr before leaping at a large stone that had evidently fallen from the ceiling sometime over the centuries. She scrambled up where she stood atop it and made the symbol of Oht in the air, punctuating it with a thrust of her open palm. The air about her crackled and purple flames erupted at the foot of the rock. From it sprang a spectral cheetah, spotted hackles raised. It dashed at the draugr, joined by a spectral wolf and they flung themselves into the fray.

Emily glanced over at Serana who was commanding the wolf. A snarl sounded at her feet as two more draugr closed in. One wielded a battleaxe which he swung at Emily’s ankles. She leapt quickly from the rock and over their heads. She landed behind them and swung around, catching the battleaxe wielder in the back. The blue glimmer dancing over his desiccated flesh faded and he disintegrated into ashes: a thrall. A second later another thrall fell to Serana’s blade. The tides were turning.

“No, it cannot be!” Potema yelled, loosing a burst of lightning. It struck both Emily and Serana full in the chest. Serana crashed against a rock pillar and stars popped before her eyes while Emily crashed to the floor. She stared dazedly at the ceiling where the incorporeal spirit of Potema hovered. Then as she watched the spirit fled for the doors emblazoned with the Wolf Queen’s symbol. They flew open as though blown by a mighty gust of wind, banging against the stone walls and shifting loose small stones from the ceiling which rained down upon them. They got up and gave chase.

In the next room was an ornate throne hewn from rock and seated in it, robed in raiment, was Potema herself. Her skull face grinned at them as she rose from the throne. Her skeletal hands crackled with energy which enveloped her and in one hand she wielded a ghostly blade. There was no question in Emily’s mind that that blade could cut and maim as well as any blade of corporeal steel. But could they wound her? Serana answered her question.

“Blades are no good here,” she called over, “Use your magic!” Emily cast aside her blade and readied a ward as the first bolt of lightning surged toward her. It struck the ward which shattered under the lightning’s wrath, pushing her back several feet. Their familiars prowled about them, hissing and snarling. Emily’s familiar was the first to lunge and the first to fall, collapsing in a meshwork of energy as another bolt of lightning struck it. Serana’s wolf fell shortly after and Serana dodged behind one of the iron sarcophagi, lightning leaping from her palms. Emily readied another ward as the charged energy the Wolf Queen possessed blazed brightly. Again and again she struck and again and again the ward shattered, forcing Emily to reconjure it before the next strike. Inch by inch she was forced back across the stone floor. Sweat beaded on her brow as the mental exhaustion that comes with using magicka began to build. The Wolf Queen always kept tantalizingly out of reach of her spells and she hadn’t the time or the energy to maintain the ward and strike out. It was Serana who came to her aid, striking the Wolf Queen from behind. The lightning leeched at her magicka reserves and for a moment she faltered. Emily seized her chance, summoning a weak ice spell on her palms. The frosty air struck the ghostly form of Potema and, though weak, it was enough to force her back. Serana struck again and the Wolf Queen staggered forwards. She caught Emily’s eye and nodded. Emily knew the signal and summoned every drop of magicka left in her, focusing it into her palms. Sparks leapt in great arcs as they converged on the former Queen of Solitude and she looked up in time to see the energies hurtling towards her. She loosed a horrible empty scream as they struck her. And then, she was gone, the echoes of her scream reverberating about the chamber before they too gave way to silence.

For several minutes Emily and Serana just stood there, staring at the space the Wolf Queen had occupied.

“Phew, it’s over,” said Emily.

“This time, it is,” Serana replied. She crossed to the throne. On it lay a skull, a circlet like the one the ghostly visage of Potema had worn, adorning it. She picked it up and tossed it to Emily who caught the grisly artefact.

“We’ll need to get this to Styrr,” she said. Emily held up the skull, gazing at the eternal grin plastered across its features.

“How exactly does Arkay sanctify something like this?” she asked as she gathered up the remaining bones which lay strewn about the throne. Serana, who had been rummaging through a nearby chest, looked over her shoulder.

“I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong woman, Em,” she replied, “But my guess would be it will involve burning it.” In the chest was a book which Serana pocketed, a sum of gold which they split between them and a necklace beset with a large sapphire. There was also an iron war axe and a steel helm which they elected to leave.

They followed another door out the back which led to a small cave with stone steps built into the earth, leading upwards. The moonlight shone pale and ghostly down upon them.

“How long were we down there?” Emily asked. She glanced at her watch. “Yikes, it’s been a whole day.”

“Time has little meaning underground,” Serana replied, “I’ll admit, I’m glad to be out of there.” There was a note of relief making itself evident in her voice.

Through another small chamber and finally they emerged on a small ledge on the sheer face of the stone archway Solitude sat atop. Before them lay the Sea of Ghosts and in the mist that blanketed it Emily could just make out the lighthouse that sat on a spit of land jutting out into the sea. The masts of several ships rose from the mist, bobbing on the slight sway. Emily peered over the edge.

“Looks like we’ve got a bit of a climb ahead of us,” she said with a low whistle.

The climb back down to the ground took them just under half an hour and they found themselves at the edge of a cobblestone road. It led them back around the archway and up to the city gates, passing the harbour and the farm nestled in the bay. A guard on duty watched them as they passed by the watchtower and they passed through the city gates into the quiet cobblestone streets. It was coming up to ten O’ clock when they reached the Hall of the Dead. Emily was carrying the bones of Potema including the grinning skull in a thick burlap sack and she couldn’t help but think of what the most feared and wicked of Solitude’s royalty must think of her new temporary living quarters. They found the door locked and Emily hammered on the wooden slats. A moment later it opened a crack and when Styrr saw who it was he ushered them inside.

“You have the remains?” he asked. Emily opened the sack and showed the contents to the old priest.

“Good,” he said, taking the sack from Emily. He led them over to a shallow basin where he placed the sack. He then raised his arms to the sky.

“Oh, mighty Arkay, hear my prayer and sanctify these most wicked of remains so that they may pass into eternal rest and trouble the Mundus no longer,” he intoned. As Emily watched the sack began to glow with a golden light. As it grew in intensity she felt a presence along with it. Without understanding why, she felt the urge to move away from the light yet another part of her longed to be near it. As she fought with herself she saw that Serana seemed to be facing a similar struggle. The sack and its contents suddenly burst into flame, forcing Emily and Serana to shield their eyes from the glare.

And then it was gone and with it the sack of bones, leaving only a pile of white ashes.

“It is done,” said Styrr, lowering his arms, “Potema has left the mortal plane. You should go and see Falk Firebeard. In case he doesn’t make it clear, Solitude owes you a debt of gratitude.”

They said goodbye to Styrr and left the Hall of the Dead.

“Serana, what happened exactly?” Emily asked, “Back there.” Serana turned to look at her. “I felt this urge to move away from the light but at the same time,” Emily continued, “I wanted to be nearer to it.”

“As undead we stand for everything that Arkay isn’t,” Serana explained, “There’s a longstanding…rivalry between us. But,” she said, “You were mortal once, bound to Arkay’s sphere and your soul remembers. Even though you’re not native to this land and even if you were to forget about mortality your soul would remember.”

“Then, did you feel it too?” Emily asked. Serana looked away.

“Em,” she began.

“Sera, please,” Emily persisted, taking her hand. The vampiress sighed and turned back to her, looking into her earnest eyes.

“Yes, I did,” she said at last. They started walking again, hands still entwined and Emily decided to change the subject.

“Not long before we can go home,” she said.

“About that,” Serana replied, “Seeing as our last deal…fell through.” Emily grimaced. “Any more ideas on how we’ll get a hold of that stone we need?”

“Yes, actually,” Emily replied.

“Falk’s reward?” Serana questioned. Emily nodded.

“You’ve got it in one,” she grinned.

They found Falk as before, pacing in the foyer of the Blue Palace. When he caught sight of them he hurried over to them.

“So, is it done?” he asked, “Is Potema…” He left the question hanging.

“Yes, she’s gone,” Emily replied, “We fought her spectre in the old catacombs and reclaimed her remains. We brought them back to Styrr and he sanctified them.”

“Solitude will forever be in your debt,” Falk replied, “You stopped a great evil tonight. Greater than you can imagine.” He looked from one to the other.

“I have something for both of you,” he continued. He left and disappeared into a room off to their right. Serana and Emily looked at one another. He reappeared a minute later, carrying a sword and a shield. The shield bore the head of the wolf, the symbol of Solitude and the sword’s blade was a metallic red with the pommel bearing the likeness of a wolf’s head, two rubies set into its eyes.

“These are the sword and shield of Solitude,” he said, holding out the artifacts towards them, “Choose whichever you want.” Serana motioned for Emily to choose first. Emily looked from one to the other before finally choosing the shield, holding it up by the handle and testing its weight.

“You’re the better fighter,” she smiled as Serana took the sword from Falk, holding it up to the light. It gleamed in the candlelight burning in the sconces on the wall.

“Falk,” said Emily, “We have a question to ask.”

“Ask away,” Falk Firebeard replied.

“Are there any quarries in Haafingar?” Emily asked.

“Plenty,” Falk Firebeard replied, “Haafingar is famous for its stone. Much of the city was built using stone taken from the Kilkreath foothills. Why?”

“We’ve been looking for a source of stone for our home,” Emily explained, “We had a deal going in Markarth but that…unfortunately fell through.”

“I can set you up with what you need,” Falk Firebeard assured them, “It’s the least I can do after what you’ve done for Solitude, for Skyrim. I’ll have it sent there by wagon. Where is your new home?” Emily showed Falk Firebeard the deed and he assured them it would be sent on first thing in the morning. That night they sat in the Inn and talked.

“So, what should we do?” Emily asked, “We could probably catch a ride back on the wagons.”

“As much as I’d like the leisure time,” Serana replied, “I’m not sure the waggoneers would understand our nocturnal habits.” Emily sighed.

“Guess there are a few downsides to being vampires,” she said, “I was looking forward to the steady trundle of the wagon wheels over the cobblestone, the land slowly rolling by.” Serana smiled.

“Maybe someday Emily,” she said, resting a hand on Emily’s, fingers stroking the back of her hand. “Come on, we’d better get a move on if we’re to get home before the wagons.” Emily nodded and got up, following Serana out of the tavern and back out into the night.


	11. Septimus

As it was they arrived a full week before the ten wagonloads of stone and they found time to spend in leisure as Emily had wanted. For a few of the nights they went down to Lake Illinalta to fish. They did not keep what they caught, not out of sentimentality but for the distaste of the cold blood of the fish.

Emily sat for many an hour, watching the moons reflected on the surface of the water next to her wooden float where it bobbed in the water. Serana spent some of the time standing in the shallows, catching dragonflies and small fish. She’d told Emily of their alchemical properties and uses. It was a funny sight watching the elder vampiress standing stock still, watching the glimmering movements of a jet black dragonfly before suddenly dashing forwards and clasping her hands about its buzzing darting form. Sometimes Emily would join her and Serana would chuckle in amusement as Emily would miss and wind up face first in the lake.

When, at last, the stone arrived they were out on one of their nightly excursions. The stone had been paid for before they’d left Solitude and the men had left it in the clearing before starting their journey back to the capital. When they returned and found the stone waiting for them Serana wrote a short letter to the Mourning Sun and tied it to Tibius’ leg before setting him free into the night sky. The following evening the Mourning Sun arrived with three trolls in tow. They spent some time looking over the plans and then the work began in earnest. Mogrul cut the stone into large blocks for the foundations. The first of these Emily and Serana carved their names into and this was placed at one of the corners. The trolls helped with the heavy lifting while Florentius took up a saw and set to work at the lumber pile. The wood to be cut rested on two larger pieces of wood and he held the wood in place with his boot as he began to saw at it. Gunmar and Beleval carried between them a bucket which held several pounds of nails, a set of twenty hinges and iron fittings and a few locks and their accompanying keys. Sorine had amassed a collection of Dwemer gyros and scrap metal in their time away from the Mourning Sun which she now set to work on, promising them a rudimentary system for heating water and delivering it to various points in the house where it was required. Hanging from her belt was an assortment of tools including a level and a set of plumb bobs. And so the work on the house began.

Planks of wood were sanded down using slaughterfish scales and nailed together to make a sturdy front door. They painted it a deep forest green and Sorine affixed a Dwemer metal knocker and handles to it. The locks were installed and the door was heaved into place where it was secured into the newly built doorframe.

The walls were made using the wattle and daub building technique. Emily had seen it being done at an old museum she had once visited where they gave live demonstrations and it felt strange that now it was she who was entwining the slender branches about the wooden stakes and setting them in place where the daub, made from a mixture of clay, mud, chalk dust and horse hair, was applied, coating the branches and binding them all together.

Great care was taken in the thatching of the roof, leaving not a single area exposed to let any stray sunbeams in. The hay was brought in from the farms surrounding the city of Falkreath and was the surplus left over after the first harvest of the year and treated with a special mixture which Florentius brewed which he claimed would reflect and dissipate any sunlight cast upon it.

It took them five months to build the basic framework of the house and another two to build the interior walls, floors and stairs.

As the month of Last Seed came to an end the house was complete. Although sparsely furnished when they set down their adzes and hammers, it was liveable. A fireplace dominated the main room, crackling with the left over bits and pieces from the lumber pile. Following the building’s completion they gathered outside around a crackling firepit where Mogrul was preparing a feast of venison, grilled leeks and baked potatoes. The joint turned slowly on a spit over the fire and Sorine passed around several bottles of good strong ale.

“Thanks guys,” said Emily as she drained the last of the ale from her tankard, “We couldn’t have done it without you, all of you.” Gunmar smiled and raised his tankard in response.

“You’ve picked a fine bit of land, Emily,” he said, “There’ll be plenty of beasts out there to hunt.”

“And a Nordic ruin close by if you feel like testing your metal,” Mogrul added.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” smiled Serana.

“Well,” said Florentius, getting to his feet, “We had best be off. Leave you two to get settled in.” And so the Mourning Sun said their goodbyes and one by one they left, taking their tools and the last of the food with them.

Emily got up and together they headed for the door to their new home. Finn scampered after them but stopped short, sniffing at the wooden doorframe.

“What’s the matter, Finn?” Emily laughed, “Do you want me to carry you over the threshold or something?” She bent down and scooped the otter up in her arms.

“Is that some kind of Earth tradition?” Serana asked. Emily nodded.

“Yeah, when a couple move into a new home, particularly their first home, the man will carry the woman across the threshold,” she explained.

“You earthlings have some funny traditions,” Serana replied with a slight smile, planting one hand on her hip.

“Yeah, well-,” Emily began. Then she let out a squeak as Serana lifted both her and Finn off the ground. The vampiress was smiling mischievously and she grinned back as she was carried across the threshold. Tibius flew in after them where he made himself at home on a perch by the door. She looked up at Serana. The moment was over all too soon as Serana lowered her back to the ground though her hand lingered on Emily’s arm for a moment longer.

For a little while they just stood there. After so many months first searching for and then building their home it was finally done.

“Hardly seems real, doesn’t it?” said Emily as they sat down by the fire, “We’re finally home.”

“You know, I’m glad you asked for that fireplace now,” Serana replied, looking into the flames, “So long as they’re contained, I don’t mind them and it is…peaceful.”

“And peace is something we’ll know again now,” said Emily as she leant against Serana’s shoulder, “No more fighting demon ghost queens or dealing with the Forsworn. No more dungeons and tombs…well, unless we feel up for an adventure anyway.” Serana chuckled. “I wonder how long before the first of the Jarl’s taxes will roll in,” she continued, opening one eye.

“We’ve got enough tucked away for the first couple of years,” Serana replied, “Then,” she shrugged, “We’ll have to start saving again.” Emily reflected that this was quite possibly one of the most ordinary conversations she’d had in well over a year. Nothing involving will o’ the wisps, werewolves or fantastic beasts of the forest. There was, however, one facet of the conversation she felt obliged to mention, one not quite so mundane.

“What’ll we do then?” Emily asked, “I mean, I can’t imagine either of us working in a bar or running a general store or anything. What kind of work can a vampire do?”

“I’ve been giving that some thought actually,” Serana replied, “It’s part of the reason I wanted that garden.”

“Flower arranging?” Emily quipped, earning herself a nudge in the ribs.

“Very funny, Em,” Serana smiled, “No, alchemy. When I was last in the castle I came across a couple of my mother’s old recipes. Night eye potions, fortify armour and the like. There could be quite a demand among the city guard.”

“All this and a head for business too,” Emily grinned, “No, that sounds like a great idea. What ingredients do we need?” Serana got up and walked over to the bench where her pack was sitting. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and sat back down next to Emily, handing her one of the pages. At the top she could make out, in a fine looping script, ‘Potion of Night Eye.’

“Wolf’s eyes, foxglove nectar and hawk’s egg yolks,” she said, “Sounds like stuff we could pick up locally.

“And I could grow the canis root, bleeding crown and Mugwort we’ll need for the armour potions,” Serana replied.

“How exactly does a potion make armour more effective?” Emily asked as she handed the paper back to Serana. She put it back into her pack before replying.

“It’s a little like a mage armour spell,” she explained, “Except you don’t need any magical ability to get the effects and it lasts longer before you need to take another. One bottle should get you through most skirmishes.”

“You showed me canis root before, didn’t you?” said Emily, “When we were in Haafingar. Little dead-looking shrubs. Do they grow out here?”

“They’re not native,” Serana replied, “But with the right conditions I should be able to get them to thrive. The trick will be getting the mugwort and foxgloves. If I can get some seeds from the apothecary we won’t have a problem, they’ll grow well enough out here.”

“Well, how about tonight I go out hunting, see if I can track down some wolves while you go down to the city looking for these seeds,” Emily suggested, “And I’ve seen hawks flying around the mountains near Falkreath. Maybe I can pick up the eggs while I’m out.”

“Just be careful,” smiled Serana, “I know it’s just a couple of wolves but don’t try anything reckless.”

“I won’t,” said Emily. She looked out at the night sky where it was starting to get light. “It’s getting early, I think I’ll head up for the day. See you tonight.”

“I might as well too,” Serana replied as they got up and made for the stairs.

They parted ways the following night and Emily made off into the forest while Serana followed the forest path back down into the city of Falkreath. Emily followed a game track which took her steadily North, deeper into the forest. Here the trees grew close together and here the wolves hunted, stalking their prey in the slivers of moonlight that struggled through the canopy to the forest floor below. Emily listened intently as she walked, listening out for the baleful howl of a lone wolf. Her bow was gripped in one hand and a quiver of arrows, steel in make, hung from her back. She heard the whisper of wind in the leaves overhead and the haunting cry of a dog fox. Then there came a howl, not far from where she stood and it was answered by another. They came from either side and Emily realised that as she had come out to hunt them, they in turn were hunting her. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and pulled it taut against the bow, aiming into the shadows, eyes scanning the undergrowth. Another howl, closer now. This was answered by a series of yelping barks. One of the wolves was young, perhaps a yearling, overenthusiastic in its hunting and taking little care to remain concealed.

She heard the air behind her whoosh with the shaggy form which sprang between the bushes and she whirled around, moonlight gleaming off the arrowhead. The air had fallen still again and she took a step backward. Her fingers shook a little with the effort of keeping the bow string taut. Then it leapt at her and she fired. The wolf gave a great howl of pain as the arrow sunk deep into its shaggy neck and the next second the yearling she had heard earlier came bounding from undergrowth to aid its companion. Emily fell back, swapping her bow for her blade as it ran at her. Its teeth were open in a snarl as it lunged and Emily brought the blade up to defend herself. It thumped into her, causing her to stagger back. Blood ran down over the blade where it had cut a neat gash in one forelimb and it howled in pain before lunging again. The first wolf rounded on her along with the yearling and Emily sprang back.

“So much for not doing anything reckless,” she berated herself under her breath as she brandished her blade. Her eyes darted from one wolf to the other. The first wolf was breathing raggedly past the arrow still embedded in its neck. The second’s hackles were raised in a snarl. The elder wolf plunged forward first and Emily took her chance, sidestepping the lunge and plunging her dagger into its chest. The blade struck true and the wolf fell limp. The yearling now seemed less sure of itself and it paced around Emily, looking for an opening to attack, yellow eyes locked on hers. Then, without warning, it took to its heels and fled back into the undergrowth.

Emily stood for a moment, listening, before setting to work on the carcass. The eyes she deftly removed, depositing the grisly prize into a small glass jar. She skinned the beast and harvested what she could of its bones. Its liver, too, she took. Angeline had once told her it was a prized ingredient for keeping at bay common illnesses that beset the folk of Tamriel. With her pack bulging she left the forest.

Retrieving the hawk’s eggs was a comparatively easy task. The birds made their nests high in the mountains, on rocky outcroppings and cliff edges. Some were placed precariously on branches jutting out over the edge and Emily had to carefully test these branches to see if they would take her weight. Where they would she edged out and snatched the yellow-brown speckled eggs from the heaps of twigs that made up the nests. These she placed in a lined box to protect them on the journey back. When she had plucked twelve she decided to head back to the cottage.

Serana was not there when she returned but this she had expected. It would take Serana a couple of hours to reach the city and by this time the apothecary would be shut. She’d have to wait it out until the following evening for the narrow window of opportunity between sunset and the store’s closure to do her shopping. And so Emily passed much of the remainder of the night and the day that followed reading, sketching and sleeping. It was as she slept, stretched out on the wooden bench, that the door was unlocked and opened, a familiar figure crossing the threshold. She looked at the earthling with faint amusement before crossing over to where she lay, nudging her arm. Emily opened her eyes and smiled when she saw familiar red eyes looking back at her.

“How was your trip?” she asked sleepily. Serana held up three packs of seeds, each clearly labelled to tell one from the other.

“Profitable,” she replied, “I sold off some nightshade and chokeberries I’d gathered on the way there for these. How was your hunt?”

“I fared better with the eggs than the wolves,” Emily replied, “I managed to kill one but the other got away. A lot of fighting for just two eyes. I got the pelt, liver and bones as well though in case we have need of them.”

“It’s well you did,” said Serana, “The bones we can use for the same potions.” Emily sat up.

“I happened to look through a few old books while I was in the apothecary. Seems bone meal has the same effect when combined with foxglove nectar and hawk egg yolks.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all night,” smiled Emily, “I thought we’d be going hunting at least every couple of nights at the rate I was collecting eyes.”

They planted the seeds in a spot that would catch the sun come midday. The canis root seeds they buried deep in rocky ground as was its preference. It would take some time for the plants to sprout but, as Serana pointed out, they would not have need of them for sometime yet. She showed Emily how to preserve the wolf eyes and liver using frost salts and how to properly grind down the bones into bone meal. They mixed this with hawk’s egg yolks, leaving it to distil in the full light of Masser. When they retrieved it three weeks later the liquid had a curious glow to it as though it had captured the very light of Masser itself. This was the first of many night eye potions made.

While they waited for the plants in the garden to reach maturity they set about decorating the house. Much of the larger furniture was already in place and they began to add shelving, some roughly carved footstools for the bench in the main room, hanging racks for drying herbs and a few bookshelves in the bedroom to house Serana’s ever-growing collection.

Emily sifted through her bag, removing knickknacks and other things she had gathered in her travels, placing them on the shelf by the bed. Her fingers collided with something hard and metallic with flat sides and sharp edges. She pulled it out. “Oh, damn,” she said as she realised what it was.

“We forgot to bring this back to Septimus,” she said as she held up the carved Dwemer puzzle cube. Serana looked up from the book she was reading.

“We should get this back to him,” Emily continued. Serana sighed, getting up from the bed and setting the book back down on the bedside cabinet.

“Em, I wouldn’t bother,” she said, “That old hermit’s probably frozen to death by now.”

“And if he hasn’t?” said Emily, “Weird as all heck he was but he did show us how to get the Elder Scroll we needed.” Serana sat back down on the bed. She quirked an eyebrow at the earthling, smiling slightly. Then with a sigh of mock exasperation she replied.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” she conceded, “But let’s leave it until tomorrow night.”

“Alright,” Emily said, “I suppose one night couldn’t make too much difference.”

* * *

And so they struck out Northeast, trading misty pine forests for desolate ice floes. All in all it took them just under five weeks. Snow clung to Finn’s fur as he huddled in Emily’s cloak and icicles hung from Tibius’ beak though the undead bird seemed completely unperturbed.

They left Arvak by the shore and carried on across the ice fields on foot. The ice was thick and sturdy, having not seen a thaw in well over one hundred years. They spotted the entrance to Septimus’ icebound lair and peered inside. Emily feared that perhaps Serana had been right and this had been a wasted trip but when they reached the end of the icy tunnel they spotted Septimus. He was standing in almost the same position as they had left him in about a year ago. He was still staring at the Dwemer lockbox encased in the ice and Emily at first thought he had frozen solid. But then he turned to look at them.

“You have returned,” he said in his wheezy chortle, “Just as Septimus knew you would.” It was as though time had not touched the old man except to add a few wrinkles around his eyes and nose and a few extra white hairs to his brow.

They followed the icy path down to where the old man stood. “We’ve brought you the lexicon,” Emily said as she handed over the puzzle cube. Septimus eagerly took it from her, gazing at it and studying it from every angle. Then he began to poke at different areas of the cube. Two catches separating the two halves of the cubes swung out and with a few deft movements Septimus twisted the top half. This caused the cube to split again and with one last twist the blue centre was exposed and light flood out from it. What Septimus could see in the pulsating blue light, Emily and Serana could not but judging from the gasps of wonderment and the wheezy affirmations what he saw at once pleased him and frustrated him.

“We are close,” he whispered, “So very close. The sealing structure interlocks the tiniest fractals.” He made a slight gesture with his hand, wriggling his wizened old fingers to illustrate his point. “Yes, but Dwemer blood can loose these hooks but, of course, none alive remain to bear it.”

“I guess then you’d better just give up, old man,” said Serana. She had little patience for this old madman and when he began rambling she took Emily by the shoulders, preparing to steer her back out of the ice cave and towards sanity.

“Not so, impatient one,” said Septimus with a cackle, “Not so. A panoply of their brethren could create a facsimile.”

“A…panoply?” said Emily.

“Em, let’s leave him to his ramblings,” Serana said. She felt somehow that the air around them was getting colder and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“A panoply,” Septimus said, “A mixture of elven bloods. Altmer, Bosmer, Dunmer, Falmer and Orsimer.” He crossed over to a Dwemer container and began rummaging through the contents. He grinned triumphantly, pulling out a golden mechanism consisting of several cylinders, each armed with a long needle.

“This device will drink of their blood, allowing for its harvest,” he said, “Take this and harvest, my friend.”

“I’m sorry, we drink blood, we don’t harvest it,” said Serana. Emily nodded.

“Serana’s right, Septimus, you’ll have to find someone else for this one,” she said, taking a step back. Something in Serana’s manner was urgent, the way she gripped her shoulders and how her eyes darted back towards the entrance.

“Very well,” said Septimus, withdrawing and not once did the smile vanish from his lips, “Very well,” he repeated, “Someone else shall have to take up this task. My Lord assures me they will come. They will help old Septimus as you have not. Farewell, friends, farewell.”

Taking this as their cue to leave they hastened their way back up the icy path. But as they reached the mouth of the tunnel they both stopped dead for blocking the way was a pulsating mass. It appeared oily, slick, with tentacles undulating from its heart. Eyes blossomed on every inch of it, growing, pulsating and then shrinking back, each glistening pupil trained on their movements. Serana gripped Emily’s shoulders tightly, swallowing nervously as they beheld the void. And then the void spoke.


	12. Hermaeus Mora and the Beginning of the End

“Well, well, Dovahkiin,” said the void, “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Its voice was slow and thick, pooling around them like oil.

“I have been watching you,” continued the void and a large eye swelled up, green and bulbous, focusing intently on Emily mere inches from her face. She instinctively recoiled from it. “With great interest,” it said.

“Wh-who are you?” Emily managed to stammer out.

“I,” said the pulsating mass grandly, “Am Hermaeus Mora, Daedric Prince of Knowledge and Fate, the guardian of the Unseen and the Knower of the Unknown.”

“And what do you want with us?” Serana spoke up. The eyes swivelled to her as though taking notice of her for the first time.

“Ahhh, one of Molag’s children,” his voice bubbled and oozed, “What interesting company you keep, Dovahkiin.”

“Why do you call me that?” Emily asked.

“You will know in time,” Hermaeus Mora answered, “But now, now for the reason I am here. I have come with a message.” Emily waited as Hermaeus Mora continued. “My follower’s children are searching for you as the Hare of First Seed watches. It won’t be long before they find you.”

“Who are your follower’s children?” asked Serana, “And more to the point, who is your follower?”

“Even you would not know him, daughter of Coldharbour,” said Hermaeus Mora, “He was before your time.” He paused, “Time, the unwavering line, it was broken over a thousand years ago and the end was brought forward. You will meet with the end soon, Emily. It is destiny.”

“What are you talking about?” Emily asked, “And what’s the Hare of First Seed?” Every hair stood on end at Hermaeus Mora’s words and her hands trembled.

“All in good time,” he burbled, “All in good time.” And as he spoke the tentacles receded and the eyes shrank. The black mist faded and before them the way stood clear. Emily felt a cold wind blowing down the tunnel but this didn’t match the cold she felt growing in her chest.

“What did he mean, ‘I’ll meet with the end soon?’” she asked shakily. Serana wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead she put her arm around Emily.

“We’d better go home,” she said.

“But what if the end is out there?” Emily asked, pointing towards the entrance.

“We can’t stay in here,” Serana replied, “And I don’t think Septimus would be the best living companion, do you?” This last remark won a smile from Emily, however small and she leaned against Serana’s shoulder.

“You’re right,” she said. She felt Serana’s fingers squeeze her shoulder.

“And whatever Hermaeus Mora is talking about,” Serana continued, “I won’t let it touch you.” Emily smiled.

“Alright,” she said, “Let’s go home.”

Another five weeks saw them back in their forest home and in those five weeks Hermaeus Mora’s words seldom left Emily’s mind.

“I’m going to go mad,” said Emily as she sat at her desk by the window. The moonlight was slanting across the polished wooden surface and over the pestle and mortar where she was busily crushing the bones of a wolf. It was meant to be ground into rough grains but by now it was little more than a fine powder and she finally set aside the pestle. Serana, who was lying on the bed, reading a book, got up and crossed over to the desk.

“How about we go out tonight?” she asked, “Get out of the house for a bit. You haven’t set foot outside since we got home.”

“I don’t know, Sera,” Emily sighed, “I thought it might be safer inside.” Serana sat down next to her, giving her a stern look.

“Em, we’re vampires,” she said, “We’ve got eternity ahead of us, remember? You can’t spend all of that in here.”

“I know,” said Emily, taking her hand, “I know, you’re right.” She got up. “So, where will we go?”

“How about a few drinks down in Helgen?” Serana suggested. Emily smiled.

“Alright,” she said.

They’d been down to Helgen a few times over the months they’d spent building the house. They were often joined by Mogrul and Sorine and the four of them frequented a little tavern known as the Helgen Homestead. It was run by a man and his wife along with their young son, a child of eleven, who often helped out with the orders coming from the kitchen. Helgen was a small town under Imperial control set close to the Skyrim-Cyrodiil boarder. Unusual for a town of its size, it possessed a large stone keep and was surrounded by high walls and turrets.

Emily and Serana fetched Arvak from the dell close to the house where they let him graze and rode out from the house, following the path down towards the road. Serana held the reigns and Emily rode behind. Now that she was out in the quiet night air she saw that Serana truly had been right. The moons were just rising over the mountains, Masser waxing and Secunda waning. They reached the road which ran alongside the Illinalta and followed it eastward. The only sounds that reached them were the sounds of Arvak’s hooves clattering on the cobblestones and his snorting breath as he cantered along.

They left the lake and followed the road up the hill. In the distance they could see the fires blazing atop the towering turrets of Helgen and the lights on in the windows of the Keep. They left Arvak in a clearing close to the town and went the rest of the way on foot. The guards at the gate let them in after a few short questions and the heavy wooden gates swung closed behind them. They walked up the cobblestone road that took them into the centre of town. The Inn was located next to one of the numerous guard turrets, nestled up against the North wall. It was one of the few two storey buildings in the district with stone walls and thatched roof like many Nordic structures. Lights were on in the windows and the sounds of merry singing drifted out from the open doorway.

They stepped over the threshold and took a seat at a table near the back. A bard stood by the fire, strumming a tune on his lute while three Nords in Imperial livery sung a bawdy song, slopping beer over their laps with each round.

“So, what do you want?” Serana asked, “I’ll pay this time.”

“Aw c’mon,” smiled Emily, “You paid last time. I’ll get this one.” She made to get up but Serana gently pushed her back down, smiling all the while. They fought playfully for a moment longer before Emily sat back with a smile. “Alright, honningbrew then,” she said. Serana got up from the table and went over to the bar where she dropped several coins into the waiting hand of the bartender. A few minutes later she returned to the table, carrying two full tankards of golden brown mead.

“I might’ve let you win this time,” said Emily as she took a draft from her tankard, “But I’ll get the next round.”

“Hmm, alright,” Serana replied after pretending to be deep in thought for a moment, “How about a Stros M’Kai rum?”

“As the lady requests, so it shall be done,” grinned Emily, forgetting Hermaeus Mora’s words for the first time in well over a month.

Emily downed the last of her mead and got up from the table, making her way over to the bar. She stopped as she picked up on a sound from outside. It was the sound of horse’s hooves clattering on the cobblestones. This in itself was not unusual. Travellers often came to town on horseback, leaving them in the care of the stablehands over on the western side of town. What was unusual was that this horse had evidently entered the town at a full gallop. As she listened the sound of the horse’s hooves stopped abruptly and the next second the doors burst open. Standing in the doorway, framed by his cloak which flapped wildly behind him, was an Imperial soldier.

“They’ve done it,” he yelled, drawing the attention of most in the bar. Serana looked up from her empty tankard. “They’ve actually done it. They’ve got him.”

“Got who?” asked one of the three men who had stopped their singing.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, they’ve caught him,” the man cried jubilantly, grinning behind his curly black beard, “They’re bringing him in now.” At these words the sound of chairs scraping against the wooden floors filled the room as everyone got to their feet and moved as one towards the door. The man with the dark curly beard had disappeared back into the night and they all followed. Serana and Emily joined the thronging crowd as they spilled out into the street. Several were holding torches aloft and they lined up along the veranda, leaning on the wooden rails. They had not long to wait as a cart drawn by sleek Imperial chargers trotted in through the Northern gates. This was followed by another and a man with greying hair sitting astride a chestnut coloured stallion and a woman with sharply pointed features sitting astride a second horse brought up the rear. The young boy from the Inn pushed his way past the onlookers to stare at the soldiers.

“Who are they, daddy?” he asked, tugging at his father’s sleeve. The Innkeeper, who had been watching the scene unfold, turned to his son.

“You need to go inside, little cub,” he said, pushing him towards the door.

“But why?” the boy protested, “I want to watch the soldiers.”

“Inside the house, now,” his father ordered.” The young boy groaned but allowed his mother to usher him back indoors, closing the door behind her.

“Fetch the headsman,” said the grey haired man astride the horse, “We haven’t got all night.”

The onlookers watched as the two carts came to a halt against the central wall that divided the two halves of the town. One by one the men and women on the carts were hauled off and made to stand in two rows before a man with red hair and a woman wearing a plumed steel helm. Among them was a man who towered above the others. He wore a steel breastplate over dark robes and a fur cloak billowed behind him. He had blonde hair and a rough piece of fabric had been tied tightly across his mouth, muzzling him so that he could do no more than grunt at his captors. Emily leant on the rails alongside the others. This was the same man she had seen briefly as he galloped through the streets of Solitude after murdering the High King.

“Alright, prisoners, stand up to the block when we call your name,” yelled the woman, “One at a time.”

The red haired man held a clipboard and one by the prisoners were called forward.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm,” said the man. He spoke solemnly, as though this were but his duty and not his pleasure as it was with the woman when she barked out her orders.

“It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric,” said another of the prisoners.

“Ralof of Riverwood,” the man continued and the prisoner who had spoken stepped into line. And then, when all names had been called, the grey haired man strode forwards until he stood before Ulfric Stormcloak. He was a good head shorter than him but he spoke with a confidence that made up for what he lacked in height.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen would call you a hero” he said, “But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne.” Ulfric tried to reply but the fabric drawn tight across his mouth made it impossible, rendering his words as nothing more than muffled grunts and growls that Emily had no doubt were an angry rebuke aimed at his captor. She caught sight of a white haired old man standing close by leaning on his cane. He was watching the unfolding scene with great interest, his lip curled in a strange smile. But when Emily turned to look at him again a moment later he had vanished.

“You started this war,” the general went on, “Plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.” As his words faded into silence a strange noise echoed up from the mountains. Emily and Serana turned sharply to look at the mountains that towered over the east side of Helgen but aside from the stars glimmering in the night sky and the moons hanging overhead they could see nothing.

“What was that?” asked the red haired man, voicing their thoughts.

“It’s nothing,” said the general, “Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius,” said the Imperial captain, turning toward a priestess who stood before the prisoners, “Give them their last rites.”

The priestess, a woman garbed in the orange robes and yellow hood of the order of Arkay stepped forward. A set of beads hung from the rope tied about her waist and hanging from these beads was a sphere framed by two interlocked squares: the symbol of Arkay. She raised her arms above her head as she began.

“As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you,” she began but another of the prisoners cut in, taking a step towards her.

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with,” he said venomously as he strode purposefully towards the headsman’s block.

“As you wish,” the priestess said somewhat tersely.

“Come on,” the prisoner demanded, “I haven’t got all morning.” The Imperial captain strode over to him and pushed him down onto his knees. She then put her boot on his back, forcing him forwards onto the block. He looked up at General Tullius and the giant of a man wielding the axe.

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials,” he said defiantly, “Can you say the same?” His question went unanswered as the headsman raised his axe over his head. Emily looked away sharply as it came down and she heard the sickening squelch and thud as the prisoner’s head dropped into the basket and his lifeless body rolled to one side.

“You Imperial bastards,” yelled one of the prisoners, a woman. This was answered by a cry of justice from one of the crowd standing behind Emily. Her knuckles were white as they gripped the railing and Serana took her hand, leading her to the edge of the veranda and the steps.

“Next prisoner,” said the Imperial captain, “You, step forward.” As the next of the prisoners made to step forward the same noise, closer this time, echoed again from the mountains. He faltered, looking up over the keep. Emily and Serana paused in their retreat.

“Wait, there it is again,” said the red haired legionnaire, “Did you hear that?” But the Imperial captain just glared at him impatiently.

“I said, next prisoner,” she spat.

“Alright, prisoner,” said the man, “To the block, nice and easy.” While Emily watched as the prisoner stepped over to the block, Serana scanned the mountains.

“Something’s out there,” she said quietly, drawing the attention of Emily and those standing closest to them. One or two followed her gazed while the others continued to watch the grisly spectacle. The headsman began to raise his axe as the prisoner stretched out his neck across the block but he never got the chance to bring it down upon him for a roar rent the air and a shadowy shape flew up from behind the mountains. All heads turned to the sky.

“What in Oblivion is that?” the general yelled. At the sight of the beast all those standing on the veranda scrambled for the steps and Serana and Emily found themselves carried along with them. They reached the street as the shadowy shape wheeled overhead, great leathery wings blocking out the light of Masser. And then it dropped from the sky onto the tower above the square where the execution was taking place. A rumble shook the earth beneath their feet and they staggered back.

“It can’t be,” said Serana, wide eyed as they stared up at the beast who cast its red eyes on the people standing below. For a moment it regarded them. One of the prisoners opened her mouth to shout but the dragon opened its mouth and her words were drowned out by its roar.

Suddenly clouds obscured the once clear skies and fire rained down from the heavens. At once the town dissolved into chaos with people scrambling away from the balls of flame hurtling down from the sky. Emily could see the fire reflected in Serana’s eyes as she gazed transfixed. Then she seemed to snap herself from the spell of stupefaction and she grabbed Emily’s hand, sprinting off down the streets. Emily heard the legionnaires barking out orders and the shouts of men and women as they called to one another. Then she heard another sound, the creaking and groaning of wood. She looked up in time to see a burning wooden beam crashing down towards them as if in slow motion. She pulled Serana back and the wooden beam crashed down, sending up clouds of fiery motes. They staggered back from the wreckage and Emily pulled Serana towards the door to one of the houses. It was already partially destroyed, its thatched roof having gone up like tinder and one of its walls had been blown in. They crashed in through the door, hurrying over broken furniture and fallen stones towards the wrecked wall.

They emerged on the far side to find themselves back in the streets on the other side of the fallen beam.

“Which way should we go?” Emily shouted over the din. The dragon had flown up from the keep and was now attacking the North tower.

“The Keep,” Serana shouted back. The dragon broke from the tower and wheeled overhead, raining down fire upon the hapless citizens. Emily spotted the red haired man running towards the east end of the city, followed by one of the prisoners, a blonde haired man in blue livery. They ran after them, dodging past panicked citizens and legionnaires alike. One of the captains was ordering his men to fire arrows at the beast but for all the good it was doing they might as well have been throwing sticks at it.

“Haming, get over here,” yelled the red haired man. He was shouting at the boy Emily and Serana had seen at the Inn. He was kneeling over a fallen form and when he did not move the red haired man dashed forwards, pulling him from the still form. Emily and Serana watched as the dragon dropped from the sky, landing before the fallen form. It opened its maw and they scrambled back as flames hotter than the pits of Oblivion spewed forth.

“No, papa, no!” screamed the boy. He was trying to fight his way out of the legionnaire’s grasp. The legionnaire steered him over to an old man who was crouched behind the wreckage of another building.

“Gunnar, take care of the boy,” he yelled, thrusting the boy into the old man’s arms, “I’ve got to find General Tullius and join the defence.”

“Gods guide you, Hadvar,” said the old man as the red haired man ran off into the chaos. Serana grabbed Emily’s hand and they were off again, dodging fallen timbers and piles of ruined and burning thatching and rubble. The heat in the air was unbearable, the air dry and it stung their eyes and caught in their throats. Emily coughed on the acrid smoke and Serana had tied her cloak firmly over her nose and mouth. They hurtled around the stone wall, passing under the archway and at last the Keep came into view. They heard a roar behind them and looked back in time to see the dragon rearing up, red eyes fixed upon them. It opened its maw and a gout of flame gushed forth as they pulled open the door to the Keep. They slammed the door shut behind them and the force of the flame striking the door sent them sprawling to the ground as the room was plunged into darkness.


	13. Flight from Helgen

“Hey, are you two alright?”

Emily opened her eyes and looked up into the torch burning in the hand of the red haired man she’d seen presiding over the execution. Standing at his side was one of the prisoners, a young man with blonde hair wearing the same livery as the others in the cart. She nodded, sitting up.

“By the Gods,” he was saying, “A dragon in Skyrim.” Serana got to her feet and looked back at the door which was smoking at the edges.

“By the blood of my ancestors,” she said quietly under her breath. She then held out a hand to Emily and helped her to her feet.

“Could it really be, Ralof?” Hadvar was asking the Stormcloak prisoner, “The bringers of the end times?”

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” he replied. He looked around the room. It looked to have been used as a place of rest by the Imperial soldiers. Swords and axes hung upon racks at the far end of the room and at the end of each bed was a wooden chest.

“We need to get out of here,” he continued. He looked back at the door they’d come in by. “Going back is out of the question.”

“There’s a tunnel out the back of the Keep,” said Hadvar, gesturing over his shoulder at the wooden portcullis that separated this room from the next, “Down through the torture chamber and out through a natural cavern at the base of the hill.”

“Right, let’s go,” said Emily, looking over her shoulder at the smoking door. The four of them hurried over to the far side of the room where Hadvar pulled on an iron pull chain forged into the likeness of a dragon. The portcullis lowered into the ground and they passed through, making for an iron door opposite.

Emily gulped. She could hear the dragon’s roars faintly as they descended deeper below the Keep. As they rounded a corner at the bottom of the stairs Emily heard a deep rumbling in the ceiling above. Dust fell, littering the floor at their feet. Suddenly the rumbling became a deafening roar as great chunks of rock rained down from the ceiling and Emily staggered back as they struck the ground, generating massive shockwaves. She looked around quickly and spotted a door off to the side.

“Come on, before this place comes down on top of us,” she said as she wrenched open the door and darted through. Serana, Ralof and Hadvar followed. The room they found themselves in looked to be a living area for the soldiers furnished with a large fireplace and several tables and chairs. Pheasant and rabbit hung on racks by the fire alongside herb drying racks that held garlic, elves ear and frost mirriam.

“There should be some potions around here,” said Hadvar, “We’ll share them among ourselves. I don’t know what we’ll be faced with once we get outside.”

“You take them,” Serana said to Hadvar and Ralof, “We’ve already enough to last us.” Hadvar nodded.

They found the potions in a barrel at the far end of the room, close to the door which led out into another corridor like the one they had just left. Hadvar and Ralof divided the health and stamina potions up among themselves, leaving the magicka potions in the barrel.

They then left the room and followed the corridor to a set of stairs which took them still further beneath the keep. The deeper they went the fainter the dragon’s roars became until none but the two vampiresses could hear them. The next room they came to carried a smell which made Emily hesitate and take note of its source. It was the smell of blood.

“The torture room,” Hadvar muttered under his breath. He peered around the corner, wrinkling his nose up at the smell of fresh blood. On the floor lay two men in Imperial armour. The one closest to them, a weasel faced man with greasy black hair, was riddled with stab wounds. It looked less like an act of killing in self-defence and more like a brutal massacre. He lay in a pool of his own blood and his jaw and limbs were slack. Evidently he was not long dead and rigor mortis had yet to set in.

“Looks like your friends were here,” Hadvar said darkly, glaring meaningfully at Ralof.

“And this is a torture room,” Ralof shot back, “I doubt your colleagues were making my friends welcome.” As the soldier and rebel glared at one another Serana had a look around the room. The cages she avoided, along with their grisly contents but a book lying on a small wooden table caught her attention. Its cover was black and was decorated with the silver insignia of the Empire. Below it in sharp, angular lettering were the words, ‘The Book of the Dragonborn.’

“Em, you’d better hang on to this,” she said, tossing the book to Emily. This had the dual effect of catching Emily off guard as she fumbled to catch the book and caught the attention of both soldier and rebel, reminding them of their current situation. Emily stowed the book in her bag and they left the torture room, following a stone corridor that led past a long line of holding cells. Most were empty save for a pile of hay and a bucket. One, Emily noted, housed a skeleton and she wondered how long it had lain there undisturbed.

Presently the stone walls, floor and ceiling of the Keep gave way to a structure that was somewhere between a natural cavern and the stone structure they had just left behind. A shallow stream tumbled over rocks and the sound of it and the steady drip of water into shallow pools was all they could hear.

“We must be nearly there,” said Emily, resting a hand on the stone wall. The air about them was damp and chilly and a faint mist hung above the water. Serana put out a hand, motioning her to be silent and pointed to the far end of the cavern.

“Where in Oblivion are we supposed to go?” came a voice up ahead, “Where’s the way out?” This voice was answered by another.

“Just give me a minute,” he said, “Let me think.” The voices belonged to two Stormcloak soldiers who were standing in the mouth of a stone tunnel, looking out into the natural caverns beyond. Emily considered their options quietly. Then she turned to Serana.

“Stay here with Hadvar,” she mouthed quietly. Serana nodded and watched as Emily motioned to Ralof.

“If we’re to get out of here in one piece we’re going to need to set aside any differences we may have,” Emily said quietly to Ralof as they made their way across the stone bridge towards the Stormcloaks, “If they see Hadvar before we can get talking to them, it’ll likely be a bloodbath.”

“And what do you plan to do once we reach the other side?” Ralof asked, “Are you with Hadvar? Do you plan to arrest us the moment we’re free?” Emily shook her head.

“We’re just trying to get out of here,” she said, “Nothing more complicated than that.” As they drew nearer to the Stormcloaks recognition dawned in Ralof’s eyes and he called out to them.

“Yngvar, Lemkir,” he called out. The two Stormcloaks whirled around and the one who had spoken first laughed aloud when he spotted Ralof.

“Ralof,” he said, “You made it. Tell me you cut a bloody hole into the Empire on your way out.” Then they spotted Emily.

“Who’s the waif?” asked the second.

“She’s helping us escape,” Ralof explained, “There are two more back there.” He gestured over his shoulder.

“Look,” Emily spoke up, “Fair warning: one’s an Imperial soldier. But I think a dragon is a bigger problem right now, don’t you think?” Both of the rebels scowled at these words and one clutched his war axe in both hands.

“A little support here,” Emily muttered to Ralof, “Our survival could depend on it, remember? That dragon could be waiting to burn us to cinders outside.”

“She’s right,” Ralof said, “I don’t like it any more than either of you but we can’t deny what’s out there.” The rebels continued to scowl but they nodded, loosening the grip on their weapons.

Emily turned back, waving over to Serana. She and Hadvar joined them, Hadvar looking uncertainly at the Stormcloaks who glared back with a similar uncertainty. They said nothing and followed the two vampiresses further down into the caverns. Abruptly the stonework came to an end past a wooden bridge and gave way completely to a natural tunnel.

A muffled roar echoed down to them, followed by a rumble and Emily found herself thrown forwards onto the earth. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that the wooden bridge they had just crossed had been reduced to matchwood by a large boulder that had evidently fallen from the ceiling.

“Looks like we’re not going back that way,” she said before getting to her feet.

“We’ll need to get word to Whiterun as soon as we get out of here,” said Hadvar, “The Jarl will need to hear of this. My Uncle’s house is in Riverwood. We can stop there.”

“What are you going to do?” Serana asked Ralof who was still looking at the broken bridge.

“We’re going back to Windhelm,” Ralof answered without hesitation, “Jarl Ulfric will be waiting for us.”

“He escaped?” Emily asked, “I didn’t see him.”

“It’ll take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak,” Ralof replied proudly, “And if I know Ulfric, he’ll have given that dragon something to think about before he left.”

“It still sounds in fine form to me,” Emily said, looking up at the ceiling which still shook with the dragon’s muffled roars.

They continued on into the tunnels which took them past more underground streams and the skeletons of those unfortunates who had sought shelter in the tunnels at some time long since past only to perish in the dirt.

“What do you think killed them?” Emily asked as they passed a grinning skull lying on a ledge next to what remained of its body.

“Hard to say,” Serana replied, “Wild animals most likely.”

They soon found the likely assailants in an adjoining chamber which was thick with webbing. Egg sacs dotted the walls and floors and hung from the ceiling. But these seemed mostly abandoned. Ralof squashed a spider the size of a small dog beneath his boot as they crossed the chamber. This, of course, had the unfortunate effect of calling the attention of the rest of the brood which ranged in size from the like of which Ralof had squashed right up to the size of a hand cart. With the two Stormcloaks, Hadvar and Ralof, this did little to slow them down though the very sight of them still served to send shivers down Emily’s spine.

The next chamber they came to was vast and Emily was pleased to note that at last she could hear the dragon’s roars no more. It was lit by glowing mushrooms and a small stream ran down the centre of it. At the far end was another tunnel and this tunnel at last gave way to the night air. They felt the breeze on their arms long before they caught sight of the tunnel’s exit. Outside they could see Masser reaching the highest point in the night sky.

Slowly, cautiously, they crept from the mouth of the tunnel and listened as the chill wind whipped back their hair and carried with it the smell of burning from the ruined town. Then there came a blood curdling roar and they flattened themselves against the rocks, their eyes searching the skies. Then they saw it, a great ragged black shape which had risen from the ruins of Helgen and was now gliding Northward. The dragon, it seemed, had had its fill of destruction or perhaps it was merely looking for a new target as its horned head swayed back and forth, scanning the earth below as it flew. No one dared speak until it had become a black speck over the mountains.

“Alright, this is where we part,” Ralof said with great deliberation, looking in particular at Hadvar. Then he gathered together the two Stormcloak soldiers and the three of them disappeared into the night. Serana and Emily turned to Hadvar.

“You said something about your Uncle?” said Emily, “Is it far to Riverwood?” Hadvar, whose gaze had followed the three Stormcloaks into the shadows, snapped himself back to reality.

“Not far,” he replied, “It’s just down the hill, maybe a couple of hours travel.”

“Then let’s go,” said Serana. The three of them left the cave’s entrance and followed a dirt track which weaved in and out between fallen logs, woody stemmed plants and bushes hung with red berries. The night was cold but a hot wind blew down from the ruins, following them as they made for the cobblestone road.

“Damn that dragon,” Hadvar said as they ran, “The war could have ended tonight if it hadn’t appeared.”

“Do you have any idea where it came from?” Emily asked.

“None at all,” Hadvar replied, “There haven’t been any dragons in Skyrim since the last age. I was certain they had disappeared for good. It seems I was wrong.”

“Tolan once told me that some people stopped believing in the existence of dragons,” Emily said to Serana.

“And he’d be right,” Hadvar said, “When there’s no one left to tell their story, it quickly becomes legend.”

“But didn’t they find things,” Emily asked, “Bones and what not? Fossils?” Hadvar shook his head.

“If there are any bones in Skyrim, they’re all buried in the dragon mounds dotted across the province,” he explained, “And superstition keeps away even the most staunch of warriors from them.”

The cobblestone road brought them down closer to the river, weaving back and forth in hairpin bends until they were almost level with the rushing water. Emily listened as they ran but she heard nothing save for the chirp of crickets in the long grass.

“We’re almost there,” said Hadvar. At last they had left the smell of burning behind and when Emily chanced to look back all that marked what had come to pass was a great plume of black smoke rising steadily into the sky.

Riverwood was a relatively small settlement straddling the river from which it took its name. Most of the trade came from the lumber mill situated on the small islet in the centre of the river. The main street was given over to commerce, housing a general store, a blacksmith and a tavern while the sloping ground that led up from the river was given over to residential buildings and small farmsteads. Hadvar led them through the village gates and they followed the main street towards the smithy. Hadvar pounded on the front door and the two vampiresses hung back, looking around.

“It’s so quiet down here,” Emily said, “Do you think they even know what happened?”

“Probably not,” Serana surmised, “If anyone saw that dragon, it was likely only the town drunk. Who’s going to take their word on a dragon?” Emily nodded in agreement as the door to the smithy swung open and they were greeted by a man wearing a thick rust spotted apron. He was carrying a lantern and when he caught sight of Hadvar his eyes widened in surprise.

“Hadvar,” he said, noting the singed edges of Hadvar’s armour, “What are you doing here? What happened?”

“It’s a long story, Uncle,” Hadvar replied, “We need to talk, inside.” Alvor looked past Hadvar and it was then he noticed Emily and Serana standing on the steps.

“And who are these two?” he asked.

“They’re friends,” Hadvar explained, “Saved my life in fact. I’ll explain everything but we must go inside.”

“Okay, okay, come inside then,” Alvor said, stepping back and holding the door open for the three of them. He looked around once more at the quiet village streets before closing the door.

The interior of the smithy was warm, heated by a fireplace that blazed in the centre of the far wall. A few wooden plates still lay on the table, the remains of the evening meal upon them. As Hadvar sat down in one of the wooden chairs with a grateful sigh a little girl sat up in a bed at the far end of the room, rubbing her eyes.

“What’s going on, papa?” she mumbled tiredly. She opened her eyes and caught sight of Hadvar.

“Cousin Hadvar?” she said, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll be staying in town for a little while, Dorthe,” Hadvar explained, “It’s nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep.”

“When grownups say that it’s because there _is_ something to worry about,” said Dorthe unperturbed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Just then a creak was heard on the stairs to the cellar at the far end of the room and a woman emerged. She was young with red hair and she wore a faded beige and tan dress. She stopped on the top step when she caught sight of Hadvar and the two strangers.

“Hadvar!” she said, “When did you get here?”

It was not Hadvar but Alvor who responded. “He just turned up,” he said, “Right out of the blue with his armour singed and these two strangers in tow.”

The woman joined Hadvar and Alvor at the table while the two vampiresses stood apart from them, unsure of where to stand. Only when Hadvar signalled for them to join him at the table did they do so. Then he began his tale. Alvor, his wife and Dorthe listened in silence as he told of the capture of Ulfric Stormcloak, the planned execution and the dragon’s attack on the town. As soon as he mentioned the word, ‘dragon’ Alvor shook his head in disbelief, his wife sought his arm, an almost imperceptible fear running the length of her and Dorthe looked at him in awe, eyes wide and a thousand questions just begging to be asked.

“You know how unlikely this all sounds, don’t you, boy?” Alvor asked.

“But it _is_ true,” Emily affirmed, “We all saw it. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Serana nodded in agreement.

“Then the Jarl will need to hear of this,” said Alvor, “We’re defenceless out here. No proper walls, no guards. That wasn’t a problem before, but now…” He left the sentence hanging and it seemed to Emily and Serana that he was looking to them for an answer.

“We could get word to the Jarl,” Emily spoke up. She had passed through Whiterun a couple of times and had heard much of Dragonsreach: the Jarl’s palace.

“Thank you,” said Alvor, relief evident in his voice.

“But first we must rest,” Serana cut in, “So if you could point us towards an Inn that would be great.”

“You could rest here if you like,” the woman offered.

“Of course,” Hadvar added, “You both saved my life back in Helgen. It’s the least we can do.”

And so they put down their bedrolls in a darkened corner of the house.

“Sera, what did Hadvar mean when he called the dragons the bringers of the end times?” she asked.

“It’s an old prophecy,” Serana replied, “I don’t remember all of it. A series of events are supposed to happen before the world ends. ‘When the brass tower walks, when the snow tower lies kingless and bleeding and dragons return among other things.’”

“Are all prophecies this terrifying?” Emily asked, forcing a smile that didn’t quite fit. In response Serana rested a gentle hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, Em,” she said, “But not all prophecies come true, remember?” Emily smiled, a proper smile this time, before allowing her eyes to close.

They woke just as the sun set behind the mountains and dinner was being prepared. They politely declined Alvor’s wife, Sigrid’s, offer to stay for dinner before leaving the house and stepping out into the night air.

They left the village of Riverwood by way of a stone bridge which spanned the White River and followed the cobblestone road to the escarpment that overlooked the city of Whiterun. As she had seen it before Emily once again saw the mighty edifice of Dragonsreach, now their destination, towering above the rest of the city like a great dragon, after which it took its name, gripping the hill it sat upon in mighty talons.

The night was calm, a stark contrast to their previous one; filled with noise and acrid smoke. The air was clear once more and Serana breathed deeply of it, more for its rich smell than anything else. Evidently there had been some rainfall while they slept for the grass hung with the small glassy orbs and the ground glistened in the light of the twin moons.

“When we tell the Jarl,” Emily asked as they followed the river down towards the city, “What then?”

“I don’t know, Em,” Serana replied. It seemed to her a more logical answer to give the Earthling would be to tell her they would go home but she wasn’t sure how much she trusted that answer. She had the uncanny feeling of standing on the edge of a precipice with the tips of her boots peeking over the edge. Her companion’s question told her that similar feelings were stirring in her breast.

“I guess at least speaking with the Jarl of Falkreath will have given us some practice with Jarls,” Emily said ruefully as they reached the base of the slope.

But the Jarl of Whiterun, Balgruuf the Greater, was nothing like the Jarl of Falkreath. They could tell before they even approached him as he had a strong, commanding face and there was nothing in his countenance that reminded them of a weasel. He was deep in conversation with his steward but when they drew nearer the Dunmeri warrior at his side, with sharp red eyes, spotted them and with a sword still sharper raised in suspicion, approached them.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” she demanded, “Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.” She punctuated this last remark by brandishing the blade at them.

“We’ve come from Riverwood,” Emily said quickly, eyes not leaving the blade for an instant, “Alvor the blacksmith sent us. Riverwood’s in danger. Helgen, it was wiped off the face of Nirn.”

At the use of the word, ‘Helgen,’ the Dunmer’s eyes widened briefly and she lowered her blade.

“You have news of Helgen?” she asked. Emily nodded. “Then the Jarl will want to speak with you. We’ve heard rumours of such extreme proportions that it’s difficult to separate the facts from the fiction.”

She led them back towards the throne where the Jarl sat as she spoke.

“My Jarl,” she said as she reached the throne and knelt respectfully before it, “These two strangers have word from Helgen.” She then got up and stood aside, making room for the two vampiresses. The Jarl sat up straighter at these words and awaited their explanation.


	14. FUS

“My Jarl, a dragon has destroyed Helgen,” Emily began, “It flew down from the mountains behind the town and just laid waste to the entire town. We fled through the Keep and down to Riverwood with the help of a few others. One of them, an Imperial soldier, his uncle lives in Riverwood and it was his uncle to asked us to bring word to you.”

“So, those rumours we heard, they were true,” the Jarl said gravely, “Is the beast still at Helgen?” Emily shook her head.

“No, my Jarl,” she replied, “It flew North past the nearby mountains.”

“Then it’s well you came to me,” said the Jarl. He turned to his steward, a balding man in fine blue robes, “So, do you still say we trust in our walls, Proventus? Against a dragon?” Before the man could reply the Dunmeri warrior stepped forward.

“My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once,” she said, “It’s in the most immediate danger.” The Jarl nodded at this remark. But now was the steward’s turn to reply and he now looked distinctly flustered as he addressed the Jarl.

“But my Jarl, we cannot afford to do that,” he protested, “The Jarl of Falkreath could see that as a provocation and assume we’re preparing to join Ulfric’s side and attack him. We should not-.” But now the Jarl’s patience was wearing thin.

“Enough,” he snapped and the steward immediately fell into silence. “I will not sit idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people.” He then turned back to the Dunmer, his anger already beginning to ebb away once more as he addressed her.

“Irileth,” he said, “I want you to send a detachment to Riverwood at once. And have a message sent to Rorikstead, the men will need to know what to expect should the dragon venture that far to the west.”

“Yes, my Jarl,” said Irileth with a short bow before leaving the Jarl’s side.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my duties,” said the steward with the kind of meekness that comes from being recently rebuked.

“That would be best,” said the Jarl before turning back to Serana and Emily.

“Well done, by your actions, Riverwood and its people may now rest easily,” he said, “You have done Whiterun a service. I am hoping you would both be willing to lend me your services a little longer.” Emily and Serana looked at one another as he continued.

“My court wizard, Farengar, has been studying dragons for some time now,” he explained, “Recently he told me he had need of a certain ancient dragon artefact of some kind but I haven’t the men to send out in search of it with this war going on. Perhaps you would be willing to search for it? Now that dragons truly have returned, the matter is more urgent than ever.”

“What do you think, Sera?” Emily asked although she already felt fairly sure of the vampiress’ answer. Just as she had anticipated the vampiress nodded. Emily turned back to the Jarl.

“We’ll do it,” she said. The Jarl got to his feet and, bidding them to follow, led them to a small adjoining room. Much of the room was given over to a large desk on which stood a plethora of instruments, most of which Emily could only guess at their function. There were several crystals revolving slowly above a small dais, stacks of spell tomes, sheaves of notes covered in a messy scrawl and a series of intricately carved silver crucibles, containers, winding tubules and a set of scales. In one corner stood an enchanting table and alongside that was an alchemy lab, a large beaker bubbling away over the small boiler. Standing over the desk was a wiry man with bright searching eyes, pouring over the notes with his hands planted on the wooden surface of the desk. He wore the flowing blue robes common among the court wizards and his expression was one of utmost concentration. He did not even look up when the Jarl and the two vampiresses entered his chamber and looked ready to shoo them away with an impatient wave of his hand until the Jarl spoke and told him of the two adventurers willing to fetch the artefact he sought. At his words he looked up sharply and in an instant took in every detail of their countenance.

“Well, you seem capable enough,” he said, “I have been researching dragons for some time now. Perhaps the Jarl has told you already. Fascinating creatures, straight out of legend. To study a living specimen would truly be a life changing experience. But alas, I have little time or scope for adventure so this artefact will have to do.”

“And exactly what artefact would that be?” Emily asked once the man had ceased speaking.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, snapping out of his philosophical reverie. He sifted through a stack of papers until he found what he was looking for. Emily and Serana crossed over to the desk as he set the cracked and faded paper down on the polished wooden surface, sliding it towards them. On it was a roughly sketched drawing of a stone slab covered in criss-crossed lines and star-like symbols on one side and a sharp runic script on the other.

“This is the dragonstone,” Farengar said with an almost reverent air, “An ancient stone tablet said to contain a map of ancient dragon burial sites. You see these markings here, this is a map of Skyrim and these small symbols represent the burial mounds.”

“And where exactly is this dragonstone?” Serana asked.

“My sources tell me it is interred in Bleakfalls Barrow, a Nordic tomb not far from Riverwood,” Farengar answered, “A treasure of this significance is most likely interred in the main chamber.”

“I think I saw the tops of its arches from the road on the way down here,” said Emily, “It looked pretty inaccessible. We’d better ask in at Riverwood, they’ll be able to tell us how to get there I’m sure.”

“With it right on their doorstep, I’d hope so,” Serana added.

They bid the court wizard farewell and Emily followed Serana back to the main hall.

“Think we’d make it there if we set out now?” she asked.

“Probably,” Serana replied, “We could at least get back to Riverwood and get the information we need anyway.”

The journey back to Riverwood, as Serana had predicted, did not take them long and it was just after two in the morning when they walked back in through the village gates. The streets were deserted and the windows in all the houses bar one were dark. It was this one light in this one house that drew Emily’s attention. Then the door of that same house suddenly swung open and a woman came out, carrying a shovel. On the shovel were several shards of broken glass which the woman had evidently been sweeping up. She emptied the shards into a barrel by the road and turned back towards the open door as someone inside spoke.

“We have to do something, Lucan,” she shot back, “If we don’t, every time you acquire some pretty bauble you’ll be their first port of call.”

“You are not going to that old tomb, Camilla, and that’s my final word on the matter,” came the response. The woman stalked back into the house, slamming the door behind her and Emily glanced to Serana.

“I think it’s safe to say where we’ll be asking for information,” she said.

Emily knocked several times upon the wooden door whereupon the voices, which had resumed their backward and forward protestations once the door had closed, ceased. The same woman they had just seen answered the door. Her expression was one of exasperation and beyond her Emily could see that the room behind her was in a state of disarray. Barrels had been overturned, their contents littering the floor. Two earthenware jugs lay shattered, drawers had been pulled out and several cupboards lay open. One of the windows had been broken and several shards of glass still littered the floor. A man stood behind the counter, dressed in merchants clothes and he was eyeing them quietly.

“What do you want?” asked the woman.

“We’re looking for information,” Emily replied, “On Bleakfalls Barrow.”

“That’s you and I both then,” said the woman, leaning on the door.

“What happened here?” Serana asked.

“Bandits,” the woman said coldly, “We woke to the sound of breaking glass. By the time we’d got down here they’d gone. Curiously only one thing is missing: my brother’s golden claw. As soon as I’m done clearing up I’m going to go after them.”

“No, you are not,” the man spoke up. Presumably this was her brother. He strode out from behind the counter and over to where the woman stood. “I told you, I am not letting you go out to that barrow.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Serana said calmly, “We are headed for Bleakfalls Barrow. If you can point out the best way to reach it we’ll recover this claw for you.” A look of triumph crossed the man’s face at these words.

“There, you see,” he said to the woman, “We’ll let these strangers go to the Barrow and retrieve the claw so you aren’t going anywhere.” The woman huffed a sigh.

“Fine,” she said, “Have it your way, Lucan. But I will show them the best route.” Then before her brother could object, she strode past them and out into the street.

She led them down the main street and out of Riverwood to the stone bridge.

“There’s a game path leading up into the mountains there,” she said, pointing to a dirt track lying just beyond the bridge, “Follow that until you see an abandoned sentry post. From there head North around the mountain. That will take you to Bleakfalls Barrow.”

“Thank you,” Emily replied, “We’ll return when we have the claw.” The woman nodded.

“I should get back to my brother before he starts thinking I’ve decided to join you,” she said, “Wish I could at that. I’m sure I could show those bandits a thing or two.”

“Are all Nords this willing to walk straight into the jaws of death?” Emily asked once she had gone. Serana laughed.

“What?” Emily asked.

“She was an Imperial, Em, couldn’t you tell?” the vampiress replied.

“I could not tell a Nord from an Imperial anymore than I could tell a German from a Frenchman before hearing him speak,” Emily replied, “How could you tell?”

“I listened to her speak,” Serana replied simply with perhaps the faintest trace of smugness.

“Oh,” said Emily sheepishly. With that they left the cobblestones behind and began their journey up into the mountains. The air grew colder the higher they climbed and a brisk wind gambolled about them. The vegetation quickly became sparse until all they saw sprouting from between the rocks were snowberry shrubs and scraggy dead-looking bushes. The rocks were cracked from years of water seeping in and freezing solid. They skittered under Emily’s boots as she climbed up over a boulder.

“It’s been a while since we were in a Nordic ruin,” she said as she turned back and helped Serana up over the rocks.

“Can’t say I’ve missed them,” Serana replied, “Still, it’s an adventure.”

Then, out of the flurries of snow that swirled about them, Emily saw a light. It was small and faint, made hazy by the drifting whirling flakes. Then a silhouette slowly came into view, dark against the sky.

“That must be the abandoned outpost,” said Serana.

“Although it doesn’t look that abandoned to me,” Emily answered, “Think we can get past it without arousing suspicion?”

Serana replied with a confident smile that told her all she needed to know. They knew it was a very slim chance that the claw was held there for Serana had a certain amount of knowledge on the security measures placed on Nordic barrows and she felt sure this claw was needed to breach one of them.

Despite the blizzard one man stood outside the outpost, dressed in furs, his arms tightly folded to keep out the cold. His heavy brow and jutting tusks told him to be an Orc. On spotting him Emily slunk behind a rock and Serana followed. She looked around for an alternate route. The rockface behind them was steep but she felt she could climb it. They knew they would be exposed if they were spotted during the climb but one thing Emily had learnt of Orcs was their general preference for heavy weaponry and she hoped, as she climbed, that this Orc was not the exception to the role.  
But either the blizzard obscured them or the Orc was too frozen to care for two blurred shapes scaling the rocks, for they reached the top unmolested. They found themselves back on a well-trodden path and far in the hazy distance they could make out the towering arches and hawked headed turrets of the barrow. It sat on a large stone plateau reachable by several frosty flights of stairs. As they drew near to the bottom of the steps Emily saw three figures patrolling the walkway above. Emily slipped her bow from her shoulder and nocked an arrow, aiming at the first. She saw Serana do the same, aiming for a second. Emily’s arrow struck the heart of the first and he fell while Serana’s embedded itself in the bandit’s shoulder and she swore under her breath as he called out to the third. The one she had struck drew a dagger, casting aside his bow that was now useless to him, turning on them. The third, a Khajiit, drew back his lips in a hissing snarl as he charged them, spear raised. They rounded on the Khajiit first, switching bows for blades as he closed with them. The spear jabbed at them, forcing them to dance about the tip and the bandit grinned wickedly, his ears flat against his skull. But then Serana leapt to one side and gripped the metal spear in both hands, lightning coursing from her palms and up the spear to its wielder who screamed in agony. He tried to wrench himself free but the electric current robbed him of control of his fingers that remained locked about the shaft. Then he slumped, falling backwards as Emily closed with the dagger wielder. But his injuries made him slow and soon he fell too.

Emily stooped to clean her blade in the fresh snow and then they climbed the cracked stone steps to the barrow, leaving the dead bandits in their wake.

The doors of the barrow were vast arched affairs wrought from iron, meeting in a pointed apex high above their heads. This part of the barrow was covered by a weathered stone roof. Emily and Serana put their shoulders to the door and heaved. To their surprise it swung open and they stepped inside, closing it behind them. The room in which they found themselves was vast and strewn with rubble. Snow lay in small piles beneath the numerous holes in the roof. Her boot caught on something and she looked down, recoiling at what she saw. The body of a bandit was sprawled across the floor, surrounded by skeevers. Across the room a fire was burning and in the firelight Emily saw two bandits deep in conversation. They were discussing a third member of their band who had run ahead with the claw. At these words Emily tightened her grip on her blade. Serana looked from one to the other before taking her bow and shooting the female, an archer. Her companion, wielding a warhammer, turned and stared into the gloom from which the arrow came.

“Who’s there?” he bellowed. A second arrow answered him and he tumbled back over the wooden chest that stood in the corner. Emily took out a lockpick and after a few minutes managed to open the chest, pulling out a pouchful of coin, a glittering sapphire and a scroll emblazoned with the alteration insignia on a small golden seal. She stowed the items in her pack and they continued on, following a stone tunnel that sloped downward. Traces of webbing hung from the ceiling and caught in their hair as they passed through. Emily shuddered as the delicate strands drifted across her face and she reached up to brush them aside. Ahead of them the tunnel veered off to the left. Thick roots had broken through on the far wall and crawled their way up, puncturing through the stone with that quiet unyielding strength that plants have as they push aside all before them to grow. In front of the wall were three stone altars upon which stood several ceramic burial urns. Emily held the ball of magelight aloft as they left the firelight of the bandit camp behind.

Through wide winding stone tunnels they delved, past iron shelving which contained more of the unassuming ceramic caskets, past tunnels which had been blocked by falling rock and reclaimed by creepers and trailing vines and past candles and braziers likely lit by the bandits. Past a section of the tunnel which had come to almost complete ruin, with large boulders littering the floor and creepers sneaking over every surface, was a room. Pacing two and fro at its heart was a bandit. Emily made to nock an arrow but Serana stayed her hand and bade her to watch. The bandit seemed to be mumbling to himself as he paced, regarding the space in front of him carefully. Then, seemingly making up his mind, he strode over to the lever affixed to the ground before him and pulled it. The effect was instantaneous as the air about him was filled with darts, tiny slivers of wood dipped in poison. The poison took effect immediately and he collapsed with a low moan, his lit torch rolling across the ground.

Once the hail of darts had ceased Emily and Serana crept into the room. Emily saw, to her left, that set into the wall were three iron pedestals. Each depicted a different animal embossed in silver onto the iron. Serana, meanwhile, was examining the wall above the locked iron gate. She tapped Emily lightly on the shoulder and gestured to the two stone faces in whose mouths were more symbols identical to those on the pillars. In the centre was a section of crumbling stone.

“Three pedestals, but only two symbols,” Emily mused, looking around, “Where’s the thir one?” Then her gaze fell upon a pile of rubble lying in the centre below the symbols. Poking out from the top was a section of carved stone and she hurried over to it, hefting rocks and handfuls of earth to one side. Serana joined her and between them they unearthed a third symbol. This one bore the likeness of a snake, its coiling body writhing down the wrought iron.

“Snake, snake, whale,” said Serana quietly, pointing to each symbol in turn, “We need to change the pedestals so they match.” Emily nodded and hurried back to the pedestals. She saw, when she reached them, that they were set onto rotating disks which, when pushed, would swing around, displaying a different symbol. As she set to work on the first, Serana heaved at the second. Once the third had been changed they headed back over and pulled the lever. To Emily’s relief the iron gate slid up to allow them passage. Ahead of them there was a stone dais with a chest lying in one corner and a stone table stacked with burial urns in the other. The chest was unlocked and Emily pushed it open, pulling out a small pouchful of coins and handing them to Serana. They then turned their attention to the winding stairs that led down from the other corner of the room. The wood creaked horribly under their boots and Emily feared that at any moment it might give way. As she reached the bottom she listened.

“You hear that?” she asked of Serana, “There’s someone up ahead.” Then her ears caught another sound and she flattened back against the wall. It was a horrible scratching squeaking sound and she felt for her dagger. Then she saw it, lurking in the shadows under the stone table that stood in the centre of the adjoining room. Beady black eyes watched her, shining green in the dark and its bald tail twitched back and forth. Then it ran at them and Emily was dismayed to see two others scuttle after it. She let out a yelp as the first bit into her ankle and she kicked out at it, knocking it back against the wall. It leapt again and this time its sharp teeth closed on her wrist. The next second it was ripped from her arm as Serana sent a heavy blow at it and it rolled to the floor, squeaking savagely as the second lunged. But Emily was ready this time and brought her blade up to meet it. Blood gushed over her hand as the twitching beast scrabbled at the blade before going limp.

“Look out,” cried Serana and Emily ducked as a shard of ice whizzed past, striking the second Skeever where it fell to the ground, inert. The third squeaked savagely before turning tail and diving back into the shadows. Still clutching her bleeding wrist, Emily muttered the words of the necromantic healing incantations and ceased only when the puncture marks vanished from her skin. She shook her hand experimentally a few times and when it no longer complained they continued onward. Then they heard the voice again. It was a man and he was crying out in desperation but seemed hesitant to raise his voice much above a feeble cry.

“Is that you Harknir? Bjorn?” he cried, “Soling?” He was pleading now. “I know I ran ahead with the claw but I need help. Please, it might come back.”

Upon turning a corner and seeing the swathes of web stretched across the doorway she gulped and had an uneasy feeling at the pit of her stomach as she realised just what this man feared might come back. “I bloody hate spiders,” she muttered under her breath as she began to tackle the webbing with her blade. After a time she managed to cut through the numerous layers of sticky webbing and they emerged on the far side. They found themselves in a large room. Grisly sticky forms lay in the corners, all that remained of the spider’s previous meals. The stench was foul, the smell of fetid meat. At the far end of the room was the source of the cries. A man, a Dunmer, was trussed up in the doorway, held in place by more of the thick webbing. As Emily watched she saw the man’s head tilt upwards as much as his web prison would allow and his face contort with fear as a strangulated cry escaped him.

Then they saw it, dropping from the ceiling by a length of web. It rivalled in size even the ones they had seen in Darkfall or in the Castle Undercroft. It raised its pedipalps threateningly, clicking its mandibles, the noise of which echoed across the room. Emily pulled her bow from her back while Serana readied a lightning spell on her palm. The first bolt caught the spider full in the face and it screeched, a horrible grating sound as the electricity coursed over it. Emily’s arrow was the next to strike it. Together they faced it down and all the while the Dunmer cried out frantically, twisting this way and that in his bindings. At last, a bolt struck the spider from beneath as it reared up on its four hindmost legs. It shuddered violently as the lightning struck its soft underbelly. Then it sprawled out, lifeless on the stone floor. Emily stepped back, dagger raised in case it should move again. When it didn’t they turned their attention to the Dunmer.

“Are you alright?” Emily asked.

“Alright, do I look as though I’m alright?” gasped the Dunmer, “Get me down.” Emily made to move but Serana stayed her hand.

“Where’s the claw?” she asked.

“The claw?” repeated the Dunmer, “Yes, the claw. I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the hall of stories. I know how they all fit together. Cut me down and I’ll show you.”

“Alright,” said Emily, “But you’d better turn the claw over to us once we do.”

“Of course, of course, just cut me down,” the Dunmer said quickly. Emily nodded and began to work away at the bindings.

“It’s coming loose, I can feel it,” said the Dunmer with a measure of relief.

But as he dropped to the ground he rolled to one side and Serana saw the glint of metal in his hand. Evidently as he stood trussed up he had somehow wormed his hand to his scabbard and drawn a small iron blade from its scabbard. Serana quickly pushed Emily to one side before rounding on the Dunmer. The blade lashed out, nicking a cut along her cheek and her eyes flashed dangerously as she grasped him about the throat, lifting him from the floor and slamming him back against the doorway. As he collided with the stone his breath went out of his lungs with a whoosh and he fell to gasping as his blade clattered to the floor.

“Bad move,” Serana said, her voice tinged with anger. She ignored the blood oozing from the cut on her cheek and instead focused on the Dunmer squirming her grasp. “Emily, get the claw.” Emily hurried forward and reached into the pack around the Dunmer’s waist. She pulled out an ornately forged claw of gold and it glinted in what little light there was in the old tomb. Serana glanced to Emily and seemed to be asking her what she should do next. Emily stooped and picked up the dagger from the floor and she saw the Dunmer wince, struggling in Serana’s grasp.

“Let him go, Sera,” she said, “But we’ll be keeping this.” She pointed to the dagger. “There’s nothing between you and the door so you can escape unharmed. If you leave now, we’ll let you live.” Serana let the Dunmer go and he dropped to the floor, gasping for breath. He looked from one to the other, scowling beneath his black eyebrows. But he shrank back and then, after a moment, took to his heels and ran back the way they had come.

“Talk about ungrateful,” said Emily as she watched the retreating figure disappear out through the door.

“What do you expect from bandits,” Serana replied.

“Here, let me have a look at that,” said Emily, gesturing towards the cut.

“It’s alright,” Serana replied, “Save your magicka. We might need it.”

Past a small antechamber, which looked to be an area for preparing the dead, the passageway opened out into a vast chamber. Lining the walls were alcoves, each large enough to accommodate the bodies which lay in many of them. Some had been reduced to little more than skeletons while others had decaying flesh covering their mouldering bones. Some lay in armour, others in sacking. The room was lit by several fires burning in eagle shaped iron braziers affixed high on the walls. She heard Serana draw her dagger and she followed suit. Back on Earth this would have looked positively ridiculous but here in Skyrim the dead weren’t nearly so peaceful. A horrible gurgling growl confirmed this and she looked over at one of the alcoves where one of the dead was stirring. Two more growls joined the first as the draugr climbed out of their mouldering alcoves to face them. Emily grabbed Serana’s hand and set off at a run across the chamber. They converged on them and Serana felt the air whoosh as a greatsword swung close behind. The dead gave chase, shambling after them as they dodged between the pillars. Then Serana felt something move under her boot and there was a metallic screech and she looked back over her shoulder in time to see a spiked metal gate swing across the path behind them with terrifying speed, catching the three draugr and sending them crashing back across the room where they moved no more.

“Phew, that was a close one,” said Emily as she slumped back against the wall, looking back the way they had come. Serana leant against the wall next to her.

Emily let out a yell as something cold and grimy clasped her wrist and she looked down, staring into the icy blue eyes of a newly awakened draugr. She lashed out with her dagger, catching the undead man in the throat. But where a mortal would have collapsed the draugr just grunted, pulling her towards him as his other hand reached for his war axe. Serana hurried forward, ceasing Emily around her waist and pulling her from the draugr’s cold grasp. It lunged again, blue eyes burning but this time it was met by Serana’s dagger which pierced it between the eyes and blue light faded as it crumpled to the floor.

“Thanks Sera,” Emily gasped.

“I seem to be making a habit of saving your behind tonight,” Serana replied with a half-smile as she offered Emily her hand. Emily took it and they headed down a flight of stairs which brought them to another section of the catacombs. Here they were met with another obstacle. A narrow corridor stretched ahead and from grooves in its sides swung heavy metal blades.

“Damn,” said Emily, “Maybe there’s some way around it?” she asked hopefully. But a brief look around soon dashed this hope. She looked carefully at the blades. They seemed to swing in a pattern of sorts, alternating. She shook her head. No, running through was entirely out of the question. She crouched down and noted that the blades swung a good two feet off the ground.

“There’d better not be any draugr on the far side,” she muttered to herself as she began to push herself along. She didn’t dare so much as look up as she shuffled along and the sound of the blades sweeping to and fro above her head sent shivers running through her. Only when she felt firelight flickering across her did she look up and she saw, hanging from the wall next to her, a pull chain. She reached out for it, pulling it as she got to her feet. At this the blades ceased their swinging and withdrew back into the walls. Serana hurried through the corridor and caught up to her.

“Guess we’re even now,” she smiled as she passed her, “Well, almost.” Emily chuckled to herself as she ran after her. Past the catacombs the vast chambers gave way to cramped stone tunnels where more alcoves stood. In some the draugr lay while others stood in recesses in the walls, hands clasped across their chest. They slunk past them, not wishing to draw any more from their eternal rest and at last came to an area where parts of the barrow had collapse and Nordic carvings mingled with the natural rock that made up the cavern they now found themselves in. A shallow stream gushed through the heart of the cavern from the falls tumbling down the mossy rock and into a tunnel barred by an iron portcullis. Emily spotted a pull chain much like the one she had used to stop the swinging blades and pulled on it. The metal grated as it rose and they passed through.

Here the ruins gave way entirely to the natural cavern, lit by glowing mushrooms and a cold wind blew in from somewhere further along. They followed the stream along until the path veered off to their right and they followed it. The air was clammy and Emily shifted uneasily as they rounded the next bend. Ahead of them moonlight shone steadily down through a hole in the roof and a draugr paced restlessly two and fro, carrying a heavy iron battle-axe. Emily reached for her bow and nocked an arrow. The air whistled and the draugr fell backwards, falling still. They hurried onward, snow crunching underfoot as they passed beneath the hole in the ceiling.

“I wonder how much longer before we reach the main chamber,” said Emily.

“We’ll need to get past this hall of stories first,” Serana replied.

“Any idea what he meant by that?” Emily asked.

“Its where the ancient Nords recorded the history of those buried here,” Serana replied, “Through stone carvings. You’ll know it when you see it.”

The natural stone tunnel brought them to a stone chamber. Three archways led into it, one of which was overgrown by thick dry creepers. Emily could see a brazier burning just beyond and in the firelight she saw a heavy wooden door. They hurried across the room and heaved the door open. On the far side was an iron statue of four eagle heads spreading out in different directions, a fire burning at its heart.

“We must be getting close,” said Serana when she saw the statue. Emily nodded but said nothing as they continued on down the stone tunnels.

“Dammit,” muttered Serana as they rounded the corner and were met by another swinging blade trap. Beyond it the room opened out into a vast chamber hung with hanging lamps.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” said Serana as Emily began once more to worm her way under the blades. Emily didn’t reply, keeping her head to the ground and her mind off the blades swinging inches above her. As she reached the far side a horrible sound met her ears. It was a metallic bang followed by a gurgling growl as a draugr climbed out of an iron sarcophagus that lay close by on a raised stone dais. Emily hurriedly scrambled to her feet, drawing her dagger as she faced down the undead horror before her. It was holding an ancient Nordic greatsword which it raised above its head. Emily dodged to one side as it came crashing down, clanging against the stonework as it sent up a wave of sparks. She brought up her hand, conjuring lightning upon her palm and sending it arcing towards the draugr. It caught it in its grizzled old face and rippled across it as it roared with anger. Its movements became jerky as it was turned into some sort of grotesque marionette by the current. Emily seized her chance and lunged for the pull chain by the wall. The moment the blades ceased their swinging Serana hurried through, conjuring a vampiric drain spell on her palm as she ran. It caught the draugr in the chest and it convulsed, twisting and turning as it felt its ancient energies leaving it. At last it fell with a drawn out rattling moan and fell still.

“Let’s hope that’s the last of them,” said Serana, sheathing her dagger, “Come on.” They hurried on through the chamber and climbed the stone stairs that led to the upper walkway. They followed it around to an arching stone bridge. Swaying above it were two oil lamps and the floor beneath it was thick with it. They crossed carefully and followed the stone tunnel that lay beyond which brought them to a heavy wooden door. They pushed it open and beheld the wide stone tunnel that lay beyond. Dust floated in the air, making it appear hazy and as Emily conjured a ball of magelight on her palm the light fell across numerous stone carvings.

“This is it, isn’t it?” she asked of Serana, “The Hall of Stories.”

“This is it,” Serana replied, “You’d better get out that claw.” Emily reached into her pack and pulled out the Golden claw. She studied it carefully as they walked along, Serana pausing to study the engravings.

“Here lies the Nordic hero, Hjorigg the Forceful,” she said as she placed a hand on the stone, “Master of the Thu’um and Keeper of the Dragonstone. May the secrets of the dragon’s final resting places be buried with him where none may disturb, still until the cold day where black wings come unfurled.”

“What do you reckon is meant by that?” Emily asked.

“That they likely won’t care for us taking it,” she replied, “And that this Hjorigg the Forceful is likely guarding it.”

“Brilliant,” Emily said with a hint of sarcasm, “Oh well, let’s see about getting past this door.” She turned to the stone door which stood at the far end of the tunnel. Three concentric iron circles surrounded a central circular raised piece with an indentation in the shape of a claw at its heart. On the three concentric circles were symbols bearing the likeness of a bear, an owl and a moth. Emily turned the claw over in her hands and her eyes fell upon identical symbols lying on the palm of the claw.

“How weird,” she said as she held it up to the light, “Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of securing the place if they put the symbols on the key?” Serana shrugged her shoulders.

“From what I’ve read there’s a bit of a debate about that,” she replied, “Something about keeping the unliving inside rather than keeping intruders out. What’s the combination?”

“Umm, owl, moth, bear,” she replied. Serana pushed down on each of the stone circles in turn. When this was done there would be a click and the iron circle would slide round to reveal the next symbol. At last, when all symbols were aligned Emily pushed the claw into the indentation and turned it to the right. With a satisfying click the circles on the door began to move, aligning so all were showing the owl symbol before, with a deep grating sound, it slid down into a hollow in the floor.

Beyond lay a flight of stone steps that led up into a vast natural cavern reinforced here and there with Nordic stone pillars. At the far end, bathed in eerie blue moonlight, was a stone dais. They crept through the caverns, keeping an eye on the shadowy corners for any draugr that may be lurking but all was still. Only once did they recoil as a swarm of bats flew down from the ceiling when disturbed by the magelight, shrieking and screeching. They crossed an earthen bridge and as they climbed the stone steps a faint sound came to Emily’s ears. It was at once familiar but at first she could not tell from where. It was the sound of chanting and as if on their own accord her legs continued up the stone steps and across the dais to the far wall. The chanting grew louder until it was all she could hear.

“Emily?” Serana called after but Emily could no longer hear her. The chanting filled her head as she reached the wall and she put out a hand to a single glowing word. Then a brisk wind blew past her, ruffling her hair and a single word echoed in her head.

FUS

A loud bang brought her back to her senses as Serana reached her and they both turned to stare at the iron sarcophagus where a draugr in a horned iron helm was climbing out, carrying in one hand an ancient Nord sword and in the other, a shield. His lips parted as he rose to his feet.

FUS-RO-DAH

The cavern echoed with the Thu’um as both Serana and Emily were thrown back against the wall. The draugr wasted no time in running at them, blade held before him. Emily drew her dagger, readying a lightning spell on her palm. Serana followed suit and they converged upon the draugr. Again and again the mighty power of the Thu’um broke from his lips, forcing them back. They dropped back down the steps, swapping blades for spells, raining down lightning and drain spells from their palms. One by one the spells crashed into him, striking his chest and head, rippling over his armour and skimming past him in great arcs. Yet still onward he came. Serana dodged as the sword came crashing down once more and she seized the opportunity blast him full in the face with a bolt of lightning. Emily then leapt at him from behind, taking her dagger and plunging it into the back of his neck. He writhed back, almost knocking her to the ground and she scrambled to one side before running back at him, this time aiming for his face.

The dagger wedged itself in between his eyes and the light in his eyes faded and dimmed as he slumped slowly to the earth where he lay unmoving. Emily stepped back from the body and hurried over to Serana.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Serana replied, “That…was more of a battle than I was expecting. The ancient Nords knew how to fight, I’ll give them that.”

They hurried back up the steps to the open sarcophagus. In the bottom lay a five-sided stone slab. On one side was a map of Skyrim marked with star-like symbols as Farengar’s sketch had described and on the other side were a series of claw-like runes like those on the word wall behin them.  
“What happened back there?” Serana asked as she opened up a nearby treasure chest, “Before that draugr emerged. You went into some kind of trance. Has anything like that happened before?” Emily racked her brains for a response.

“Yes,” she said at last, “Do you remember right after I freed you from Dimhollow Crypt we came to a room that had a wall just like this one?” She gestured over her shoulder to the stone wall. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Not really,” Serana replied as she lifted out a soul gem, a sum of gold and a gold amethyst ring. She pocketed the ring and put the gold and the soul gem into her pack. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Hmm, ‘fraid we might not be able to do that for a little while,” said Emily as she looked at her watch, “The sun will be up in another hour or so. We’d best find somewhere a little more undercover.” She glanced up at the ceiling where, through the hole in the cavern roof, the light was growing paler.

They left the dais and, after some searching around, they found a set of stairs that led to a stone tunnel. Here the way was seemingly blocked but Emily soon found a handle mechanism that, when pulled, caused a stone slab in the wall to rise up, allowing them passage. Ahead was a small chamber just large enough to make camp in. They rested their backs against a stone altar on which a skull surrounded by rotting flowers rested. Emily spread her cloak out on the floor and they made ready to rest for the day. Serana took a book from her pack and began to read. Emily curled up next to her, reading from over her shoulder. After a time she lay down and she dimly heard Serana do the same as sleep overcame her.


	15. Dovahkiin

As night fell Emily picked up her cloak and clasped it about her shoulders before picking her pack up from where it leant against the wall.

“Well, we’d better get going,” she said as she made her way towards the cave exit. The cave let out onto the steep side of a frosty mountain, overlooking Lake Illinalta. Below them there were the bleached white bones of a mammoth, partially overgrown with weeds. They carefully scaled the mountainside and dropped to the grassy plains below. Here they made their way down towards the lake and followed its banks westward toward Riverwood. As the lights of Riverwood came into view Serana turned to Emily.

“Em, I’ll take the claw back to Riverwood,” she said, “You go on ahead to Whiterun.”

“Are you sure?” Emily asked, “It won’t take long to hand over the claw.” Serana shook her head.

“Getting that Dragonstone to Farengar is more important,” she replied.

“Alright,” said Emily at length, “I’ll meet you at Dragonsreach.”

With that they parted ways, Serana making for the distant lights of Riverwood while Emily continued to follow the river which ran from Lake Illinalta down towards the sea. She re-joined the cobblestone road past Riverwood and followed it down towards the city of Whiterun.

At last she reached the city gates and, after explaining her purpose to the guards, was allowed in. She hurried along the city streets and made the climb up to Dragonsreach, still clutching the Dragonstone in her hands. The guards watched her as she passed and she heard one or two of them pass comment among one another.

She stopped outside the tall wooden doors of Dragonsreach and heaved at them, pushing them slowly open. They shut with a heavy bang behind her and she hastened on up the stairs. To her relief the court wizard was still at his desk, looking over a set of papers. Standing next to him was a figure in full leather armour, their face cowled.

“As you can see the terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I believe this to be a copy of a much older text, perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War,” he said, pointing to a paragraph of scrawled text, “If so, I could cross-reference the names with other later texts.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re making progress,” said the figure. The voice was calm, levelled and clearly belonged to a woman, “My employer’s are anxious to have some tangible answers.”

“Oh, have no fear,” Farengar assured her waving one hand in a dismissive manner, “The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest so I can devote much of my time to this research. Now,” he pulled aside another sheet of paper that was covered in diagrams of various sizes, “Take a look at this. I think you’re employers will be interested as well.”

Just then the woman looked up and caught Emily’s gaze as she stood, holding the dragonstone.

“You have a visitor,” she said in a hushed tone which made Farengar look up.

“Hmm?” he said. Then he spotted the Dragonstone in Emily’s hands. “You have it, the Dragonstone.” He hurried over to her and Emily handed him the heavy stone slab. “This will do wonders for my research. My…” he hesitated for a moment, “Associate here discovered its location through means she has so far declined to share with me.” He turned back to the woman. “Well, it seems your information was correct after it all and we have our friend here to thank for recovering it.” The woman regarded Emily with what appeared to be a cool interest.

“You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that?” came her response with a note of vague surprise, “Nice work.” Then she turned back to Farengar. “Just send me a copy when you’ve deciphered it.” As Farengar made to reply Emily heard running footsteps and a voice called out.

“Farengar, Farengar,” came the voice. Then the Dunmer woman who served as Jarl Balgruuf’s housecarl reached the doorway and stood leaning against the frame for a moment, catching her breath, “You need to come at once. A dragon’s been sighted nearby.” She turned, her sharp red eyes falling upon Emily. “You should come too.”

“Wha- Me?” said Emily.

“Yes, you, now come on.” With that she turned on her heel and ran for the steps to one side of the Jarl’s throne. On her way there she paused by one of the guardsmen who stood to one side and motioned for him to join her.

“A dragon,” said Farengar in wonderment, leaving his desk, all previous thoughts forgotten in light of this revelation, “Where was it seen? What was it doing?”

“I’d take this a bit more seriously if I were you,” Irileth said over her shoulder, “If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun I don’t know if we can stop it.” They reached the top of the stairs where Jarl Balgruuf was waiting for them.

“So, Irileth tells me you came from the Western Watchtower,” he said, addressing the guard. Irileth turned back to him.

“Tell him what you told me. About the dragon,” she said. It was then that Emily noticed that the edges of his armour were singed and smoking. With halting words the man gave his account of his experience at the Watchtower. With each word Emily felt more and more certain that this was not a matter she wished to be involved in and she wished Serana were there. She found herself wondering how far from the city she was likely to be.

Then the Jarl turned to her. “I want you to go down to the Western Watchtower with Irileth. You were at Helgen so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here.”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” Emily replied, “Most of my experience was in running away.”

“Be that as it may, you saw it, you likely saw how it attacked,” said the Jarl, “Even that will be of some advantage. Now, go.” As she and Irileth made to leave the Jarl spoke up once more.

“One more thing, Irileth, this isn’t a death or glory mission,” he said, “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“Yes, my Jarl,” Irileth replied, “I am the very soul of caution.” As Emily followed the retreating back of the Dunmeri housecarl she had serious doubts on that claim. They hurried down the steps and across the lavishly carpeted floors towards the front doors.

“What happened to your companion?” said Irileth over her shoulder as they ran.

“She went to Riverwood to return the key to the Barrow,” Emily explained, “I was supposed to meet her here.”

“We can’t hang around waiting, I hope you realise that,” said Irileth as they reached the door and pulled it open. Emily didn’t reply but followed the Dunmer down through the city streets. The braziers outside the buildings burned brightly in the gloom, throwing the shops and taverns into sharp relief. Emily could smell smoke in the air and it reminded her starkly of the flight from Helgen. Irileth led her down the main street towards the guards’ barracks where several men and women already stood at the ready. They fidgeted nervously, gripping their weapons tightly and one or two shifted from one foot to the other. Irileth stopped just in front of them and Emily came to a halt next to her.

“Here’s the situation,” she said as she stood before them, “A dragon is attacking the Western Watchtower.” At these words several pairs of eyes widened and there was a murmur of consternation among them.

“You heard right,” said Irileth as she began pacing to and fro before them, “I said, a dragon. I don’t care much for where it came or who sent it. But I do know it has made the mistake of attacking Whiterun.”

“But housecarl,” one of the men spoke up, “How can we fight a dragon?”

“That’s a fair question,” the Dunmer admitted, “None of us have ever seen a dragon, let alone expecting to face one in battle. But what I do know is that we are honourbound to fight it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes, our families. Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?” These last few words were almost shouted and the Nords shifted uneasily under her gaze.

“No housecarl,” came a few voices but Emily distinctly heard one among them mutter, “We’re so dead,” and she found she identified far more with this poor soul than either the stern and commanding Dunmer or those others who were either stirred to action by her words or simply too scared to turn back.

“But it’s more than our honour that’s at stake here,” she continued, “Think of it. The first dragon in Skyrim seen since the last age. The glory of killing it is ours.” There was a kind of manic energy in her red eyes now, what Serana referred to as battlelust. “Now, what do you say? Shall we go kill us a dragon?” At these words she drew her sword and held it above her head. There was an outcry from the gathered Nords, stronger than the first and, now stirred into action, they moved as a group towards the main gate.

Emily joined them as they ran across the drawbridge and down towards the farmland. A figure was running at full pelt as they hurried past the stables. The fire from the brazier lit her up for a brief second as she passed and Emily, with a wave of relief, recognised her.

“Serana,” she called out, charging ahead of Irileth.

“I came as soon as I could,” Serana said as she reached her, “I saw a dragon as I was leaving Riverwood. It flew down this way.”

“It’s that dragon we’re following now,” Emily replied, gesturing back to Irileth and the soldiers, “It’s a long story.”

“Well, you can explain later,” said Serana, “Let’s go.” Now with Serana in tow they continued down the cobblestones towards the crossroads.

The Western Watchtower was located not far from the city, its purpose to serve as an early warning to attack. They had passed by it several times before in the past on their travels. It was the tallest structure outside the city, built of stone with yellow banners waving from its highest reaches. But when they drew near to it the saw that the banners had been burned to only a few tattered ribbons, several lumps of stone lay far from the tower and flames leaped from many a surface. Emily scanned the skies but besides the smoke that filled the night air she saw little.

“Where is it?” she asked as Irileth led them from the road to a lump of rock that lay close by.

“No sign of it now,” she conceded as she peered over the rock, “But it sure looks like he’s been here. Come on, we need to search for survivors. Get any wounded to safety. Stay vigilant, in case that dragon’s still skulking around somewhere.” With that she led them out from behind the rock and the warriors with her looked around warily with each step. Emily kept close to Serana as they advanced on the tower. She clutched her bow tightly and her legs felt liable to give way at any moment. As they reached the tower they were met by one of the guards. He had a hunted look to him and he crouched warily against the stonework.

“No, get back,” he called down to them hoarsely, “It’s still here somewhere. Hroki and Tor got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it.” Then he shrank back against the stones as a roar echoed down from the mountains. “Kynareth save us, here he comes again.” As one they all looked to the mountains. There, gliding down from the mountaintops, flew a dark ragged shape. It roared again and Irileth began barking orders to her warriors. They scattered, each trying to find a safe vantage point from which to snipe the beast. It dropped from the sky, landing heavily on the top of the tower and sending a cascade of rubble raining down upon them.

“Brit grah,” he yelled down at them. Then he reared back and opened his maw. “Yol Toor Shuul,” he cried and with his voice came flames that charged down over the stonework towards them. Emily and Serana dove to one side, dodging behind a great lump of fallen stonework. Emily saw that Serana’s eyes were wide with terror. There was little that could frighten the vampiress but fire was one of the few exceptions. Emily pulled an arrow from her quiver and peered back over the rock. The dragon had risen up from the tower and was now circling overhead. She let the arrow fly and from the distance between her and the dragon it was difficult to tell if it had hit. It wheeled around and flew down toward them, talons outstretched. To Emily’s horror she saw him grab a guard around the middle and soar with him up into the sky before dropping him from his great height. Emily heard him cry out in fear and despair as he plummeted to his death. Each of the guards had their bows drawn and all were aiming at the dragon as it wheeled around again. The sole exception was Irileth who wielded lightning that flashed on her palms and leapt in great arcs up towards the dragon. It roared in anger was one bolt struck him and he soared down, landing heavily among them and staggering those nearest. They recovered and his roars were answered by a volley of arrows. Serana seized her chance, aiming from their vantage point. The arrow struck the dragon in its wing and tore straight through, causing it to roar in pain once again. Emily joined her, swapping her bow for lightning and striking the dragon in its scaly chest. Enraged it flew up from the ground, sending up clouds of dust and earth which briefly blinded those closest. The guards stopped, rubbing the dusty from their eyes and squinting into the skies where the dragon had flown. It was circling around the tower once more, roaring.

“You are brave. Bahlaan hokoron. Your defeat brings me honour,” he thundered as he veered down to his left, breathing a scorching breath across the plains that set the dry grasses and spindly bushes alight. The skies were clouded by the plumes of smoke and the acrid smell of burning caught in the lungs of the warriors and stung the eyes of both them and the vampires. He turned and fell among the guards, biting and tearing at all within reach, crawling forward on sturdy hindlegs and wings. His next bite tore one of the guards in two and he spat out his grisly prize as two other guards drew back, white-faced beneath their iron helms. Emily aimed another blow at the dragon and it struck him on the side of his head. He turned and was met by a hail of arrows. Some bounced off his scaly hide but others embedded themselves in the comparatively soft flesh of his underside.

“Nothing stops it,” Emily cried in desperation as the dragon turned on another of the guards, biting savagely.

“Keep firing,” came Irileth’s voice over the din. A surge of lightning arced from her palms and struck the beast full in the face. It reared back momentarily and Emily saw her chance. She nocked an arrow and sent it flying towards the rearing dragon. It struck true, embedding itself in the scaly neck and the dragon flailed its head from side to side. Its wings were now torn to ribbons from arrows and spells alike. Serana loosed a bolt of lightning that followed Emily’s arrow. They converged on it. The dragon breathed a gout of flame but they leapt to one side, continuing onward toward it, loosing bolts of lightning as they ran. One after another they struck and with a last wild writing movement the dragon reeled backward. His tattered wings clawed at the sky.

“Dovahkiin? No!” he cried as he fell to the earth. For several moments all on the battlefield stood stock still, watching the body of the scaly beast for any signs of movement. At last Emily took a few cautious steps forwards.

“Is it dead?” she asked warily. Then she recoiled as flames grew, leaping along the scales and the terrifying horns and talons, burning them away to nothing before their eyes. A strange searing energy gathered about the fallen beast and Emily’s eyes widened as it gathered about her, filling her eyes with light. All sound from around her melted away and she heard roars filling the air around her. She looked down and saw the world far below her. Visions of plains, forests and mountains filled her eyes. Then it all faded into blinding light and once more she was standing upon the plains of Whiterun before the bones of the vanquished dragon.

“I can’t believe it,” said a voice close by, “You’re Dragonborn.” It was one of the guards who had come running towards them following the dragon’s demise.

“Dragonborn?” Emily repeated, “What do you mean?”

“In the very oldest tales, back from when dragons still roamed Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That’s what you just did, absorbed the dragon’s power.”

“Hold on, I hardly know what happened,” Emily replied, “I can’t be Dragonborn.”

“Dragonborn, what are you talking about,” came another voice as another three guards joined the first.

“That’s right,” said the second, “My grandfather used to tell me stories about the Dragonborn. Those born with the dragonblood in ‘em. Like old Tiber Septim himself.”

“I don’t remember Tiber Septim killing any dragons,” said a third, folding his arms. Emily edged a little closer to Serana and further from the still smouldering bones of the dragon.

“There weren’t any dragons then, idiot,” snapped the first guard, “They’re just coming back for the first time in…forever.” He turned back to Emily. “But the old tales tell of the Dragonborn who could slay dragons and steal their power. You must be one.” Emily didn’t know how to reply but another of the guards saved her from having to do so as he turned to Irileth.

“What do you say, Irileth? You’re being awfully quiet.” And then another added. “Yes, tell us, Irileth. Do you believe in this Dragonborn business?” Irileth pursed her lips and folded her arms.

“Hmph, some of you would be better keeping quiet than flapping your gums on matters you don’t know anything about,” she said. Then she nudged the dragon’s skull with her boot, “Here’s a dead dragon and that’s something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them.” She wore a grim smile as she spoke this last sentence. She raised her head once more and regarded them. “But I don’t need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down a dragon is more than enough for me.”

“You wouldn’t understand, housecarl, you ain’t a Nord,” one of the guards replied good-naturedly enough.

“I’ve been all across Tamriel,” Irileth retorted, folding her arms, “And I’ve seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this. I advise for you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends.”

“If you really are Dragonborn, you should be able to shout, that would prove it,” said the guard.

“Shout?” said Emily. She had seen others use the Thu’um before but had always believed it to be a power far beyond her own. A power belonging to the ancient draugr, to the likes of Ulfric Stormcloak and the Nordic heroes of old. How could she, an Earthling, possess this ability. But then she considered those days spent studying spells in the Solitude apothecary or alongside her vampiric companion on their travels. She had never once considered magic to be something she could wield and yet here she was. She took a deep breath and a single word came to her, outshining all others she knew. It was a short simple word and she opened her mouth and shouted.

“FUS!” And as she did so a blue light swirled from her open mouth and a strong wind blew on her breath, flattening the grass before it and scattering small pebbles across the plains.

“That was shouting, what you just did,” said the guard, a note of reverence in his voice, “You really are Dragonborn.” Emily looked to Serana who returned her gaze, her expression one of calm surprise.

“Dragonborn or not, you should return to Whiterun,” said Irileth, “The Jarl needs to know what happened.” Emily nodded and, glad of an excuse to get away, she and Serana left the Western Watchtower.

“This is impossible,” Emily said as they ran, “I can’t be Dragonborn. That can’t happen.”

“Why not?” came Serana’s question.

“Several reasons,” Emily replied as she slowed to a walk and Serana matched her pace, “For one, I’m an Earthling. Dragonborn have the blood of a dragon, how could an Earthling have the blood of something native to Tamriel? And there supposed to be warriors and heroes. That’s not me.” At these words Serana smiled.

“I might have to disagree with you on that last point,” she said, “That bow didn’t come to you by chance,” she gestured to Auriel’s bow which was still strapped across her back, “And being a mighty warrior? There are more important things, Em.” Emily smiled back at the vampiress.

“Come on, let’s get back to the city,” said Serana, resting a hand on Emily’s shoulder. They reached the crossroads and began to follow the road that would take them up past the stables to the city. The moons had just reached their highest point in the night sky and a few clouds had blown in from the North, mingling with the smoke from the ruined watchtower. A brisk wind was blowing down over the thatched roofs and through the pastures. They passed under the stone archway that separated the stables and farm buildings from the city.

All of a sudden a mighty booming sound echoed down from the mountains and the words, “Dov-ah-kiin!” rumbled across the plains, making them both spin around in the direction it was coming from. It seemed to have come down from the mountains and it brought the stableman from his house and the stablehands from the barn where they stood, staring up at the mountains. One of them was pointing up towards the highest peak.

“What on Nirn was that?” asked Emily as she stared, wide-eyed, at the mountain.

“I have no idea,” Serana replied.

“Let’s get back to the Jarl,” Emily said hastily before hurrying up towards the gate. Serana followed and they stopped only when they reached the town gates.

“By the gods, the greybeards,” Emily heard one of the men say as they stopped before the guards.

“You, you went off to fight that beast,” said the other, pointing to Emily, “Is it…is it really dead?”

“Yes, it’s dead,” Emily replied, “Irileth and the guards helped us kill it. We need to get to Dragonsreach and tell the Jarl.”

“Of course,” the guard replied before signalling up the guard on top of the gate who turned the great metal crank, opening the sturdy oak gates.

People were standing in the streets, many of whom were in their night things. Children clustered about their parents, asking questions excitedly of their elders and pointing at the mountain which towered over the city. Emily saw the Blacksmith and her husband standing by the forge and two or three revellers huddled together to keep their balance as they stood outside the Drunken Huntsman. There were excited whispers from every corner as they walked along the city streets towards the market. Hulda, the Innkeeper, the two barmaids and the bard, Mikael, were standing outside the Bannered Mare.

“Can the legends really be true?” Serana heard Hulda asking of Mikael.

They climbed the steps to the Wind district where they found more of the town’s residents standing outside. Some were gathered by the big dead tree in the centre of the plaza and the guards were busily trying to get them to return to their houses.

At last they reached Dragonsreach and pushed open the big wooden doors, stepping inside. The Jarl was waiting for them at his throne, standing by it rather than sitting as he eagerly awaited any news they brought.

“Well?” he asked as they approached, “Was the dragon there?”

“Yes, the dragon was there,” Emily replied, “It destroyed the watchtower but we managed to kill it.”

“Good, I knew I could count on Irileth,” said the Jarl with a note of relief evident in his voice, “But there must be more to it than that.” He was looking at them expectantly.

“The guards there, they called me Dragonborn,” said Emily, “When it died, there was this blinding flash of light and some kind of power flowed from it to me.”

“So it was you the Greybeards were summoning,” replied the Jarl.

“The who?” said Emily.

“The Greybeards, masters of the Way of the Voice,” the Jarl explained, “They live in their monastery, High Hrothgar, high on the slopes of Skyrim’s highest peak, the Throat of the World.” A man stepped forward from his place by one of the long tables that lined either side of the firepit in the centre of the hall. He was bald with a tawny beard, his face lined with red warpaint. He wore scaled armour and carried a greatsword strapped across his back, every inch the Nordic warrior.

“Didn’t you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?” he asked.

“We heard it alright,” Emily replied. The man folded his arms.

“That was the sound of the Greybeards summoning you,” he explained.

“But what do they want with me?” Emily asked, turning back to the Jarl.

“They are masters of the Thu’um, the same Thu’um you have been gifted with the power to use,” said the Jarl, “They can teach you how to use your gift. High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place, remote and difficult to get to. I made the pilgrimage once when I was younger.”

“And that’s where we have to go?” Emily replied. The Jarl nodded.

“There’s no refusing the summons,” he said.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Emily said wryly.

“I will send you along with a guide, it’s the least I can do after you helped save the city, Dragonborn,” said the Jarl, “Hrongar, I want you to send for Lydia.”

“Of course,” said Hrongar as he turned on his heel and left the room.

“Lydia is a capable warrior and has made the pilgrimage herself,” the Jarl explained, “She is well travelled and knows a good deal about the land around High Hrothgar. You’ll be safe with her. But first, there is one most thing I should do, in recognition of your bravery, both of you. I name you Thanes of Whiterun. It is the highest honour in my power to give.”

“Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf,” said Emily, giving a short bow as she had seen Irileth do. As she stood up straight Hrongar returned. At his shoulder stood a woman in Whiterun livery. She had dark hair and a single plait hung down the side of her head. Her expression was stern as she regarded the two before her and Emily wondered for a moment if they wouldn’t have been better travelling to High Hrothgar with Irileth.


	16. The Path to High Hrothgar

Once formalities had been exchanged and as there was still a couple of hours until sunrise Emily and Serana along with Lydia left Dragonsreach in favour of the Bannered Mare where Emily booked a room for the day.

“What are we going to do now?” Serana whispered quietly in her ear as they stood at the counter, Emily having just handed the Innkeeper a pouchful of gold, “She won’t go the whole distance to High Hrothgar without figuring out what we are. We won’t even make it halfway before she realises.” Emily glanced over her shoulder at the housecarl sitting by the fire, holding a tankard of mead.

“I don’t plan on keeping it from her,” Emily replied and Serana looked at her as though she had taken leave of her senses.

“Emily, surely I don’t have to tell you why that would be a bad idea,” she said.

“I do have a plan, Sera,” Emily replied.

“Then let’s hear it,” said Serana with a note of scepticism as she folded her arms.

“We can delay our travels until tonight under the pretence that we’re tired out after slaying that dragon,” Emily explained, “ After all, what mortal wouldn’t be? Then by the time we’ve covered a night’s distance it will be too far for her to turn back. I will tell her then. I know it’s a bit underhand but-.” She left the sentence hanging.

“And what do you think she’ll do when you tell her?” Serana replied, raising an eyebrow, “She may attack us.”

“Well, the Jarl has already sent her along with us,” said Emily, “We can’t very well send her back. And she may not attack us.”

“I guess that’s a chance we’ll have to take,” said Serana resignedly as she picked up a bottle of mead from the counter. They took a seat alongside the housecarl.

“My Thanes, are we ready to leave for High Hrothgar?” she asked, “My sword and shield stand ready and waiting.”

“Not yet, Lydia,” Emily replied, “We’ll leave at sunset. Fighting that dragon, it took quite a bit out of us. We’ll need to rest first.”

“Very well,” said Lydia, “I shall await your command.” Emily took a draught from the bottle of mead.

“Lydia, what exactly does it mean to be a housecarl?” she asked, “Are they like bodyguards?”

“That’s the gist of it,” Lydia answered, “Where are you from? Your question suggests you aren’t native to Skyrim.”

“You’d be right,” Emily replied, “I’m from England, a very far off place.”

“And you, my Thane?” Lydia asked, addressing Serana, “I can see you are a fellow Nord. Where do you hail from?” Serana, fearing the housecarl had already grown suspicious, kept her answer guarded.

“Falkreath,” she replied.

“So that was how you came to be at Helgen?” said Lydia, taking a draught from her tankard, “That was a horrible business. Whole town wiped off the face of Nirn.”

“And aside from an Imperial officer and a few others we don’t know if anyone else made it out alive,” said Emily, “Did any show up here?”

“A few showed up the day we first heard the rumours of the dragon attack,” Lydia replied, “Most were taken in by the Temple of Kynareth.”

“I’m glad there were at least some then,” Emily replied, “I doubt I’ll ever forget what I saw there.” She shuddered. Lydia nodded.

“Well, I think I’ll retire for the day,” said Emily as she got up. Serana soon joined her.

“I will await your command at sunset,” Lydia said solemnly as she returned to contemplating the fire.

The day passed quietly enough and sunset saw them leaving by the town gates. Lydia told them that the quickest route to Ivarstead, the town at the foot of the Throat of the World, would be through the Haemar Pass which stood between the ruins of Helgen and Ivarstead. Although Emily had no desire to see the blighted lands again they agreed it was the best route and she knew it was imperative to leave Whiterun as far behind as possible by morning.

They followed the shallow stream that ran from Whiterun’s sewers down towards the River White and here they followed it upstream towards Riverwood, following the winding hairpin road.

“So, what can you tell us about High Hrothgar?” Serana asked as they walked.

“It’s high on the slopes of the Throat of the World, up the seven thousand steps,” Lydia replied.

“So, quite a climb,” said Emily.

“Indeed,” Lydia agreed.

As they passed a clump of ferns they had their first encounter of the night. Sloping out of the dark ahead came three wolves, lean from hunger. On seeing them their fur bristled and they adapted the stiff-legged gait of the aggressor. Lydia did not hesitate and drew her greatsword from off her back. As the glint of metal caught the moonlight the wolves charged. Two converged on Lydia while the third disregarded her, instead making straight for Emily. Lydia cleaved first one then the second wolf asunder and then whirled on the third in time to see it fall limp to Emily’s blade. Emily saw the flicker of uncertainty dart across Serana’s face. This was no mere fledgling they had welcomed into their party and she dreaded when Emily would tell her the truth. The night was still following the skirmish and they left the three wolves in their wake as they continued on up to Riverwood.

The town was quiet, smoke rising from some of the chimneys. Several guards, the detachment sent from Whiterun, patrolled the streets, carrying torches whose light reflected off the closed-faced helms. One who recognised Emily from Dragonsreach murmured, “Hail Dragonborn,” under his breath as she passed. This made Emily feel uneasy as she didn’t think herself yet worthy of such a title.

They left Riverwood behind and began the slow climb to the ruins of Helgen. They smelt the smoke long before they came within sight of its towers. The fires still smouldered in the rubble as none had dared return yet to extinguish it. Emily wrinkled her nose at the smell but Lydia hardly seemed to take it under her notice, seeming to accept all she saw with a calm indifference.

“Have you seen anything like this before?” Emily asked, wondering if perhaps that was the reason.

“Not of this scale,” Lydia replied as they walked amongst the wreckage. Then she stopped. “Hold,” she said, clutching her greatsword, “We are not alone here.”

An arrow struck the ground at Serana’s feet and her eyes shot up in the direction from which it had come. Standing atop one of the guard towers was an archer in silhouette. Another gleaming missile struck near to its fellow and they darted for cover.

As they reached a large stone that afforded them shelter they heard shouts rising up from the tower and then from the Keep. Leaping from the shadows of the ruined building came five bandits, garbed in furs. They were forced to break cover to meet their attackers. The nearest, a Dunmer, was felled by Lydia’s greatsword. The second and third, mages armed with fire and lightning, hung back and rained down magic upon them. Emily and Serana stood with wards up, back to back and all the while the archer rained down arrows upon them. The first mage to fall was the fire wielder and while Serana closed with the storm mage and Lydia battled the last two, a dagger wielding Bosmer and a cudgel wielding Orc, Emily broke from the group and ran for the tower. The archer was readying another shot as she reached the top and she tackled him, sending the arrow skyward to fall wide of its target. He drew his blade and closed with her. Back and forth they fought. And then came the cry of victory from the Nordic housecarl and the bandit flinched momentarily. Emily took this opportunity to drive the dagger home.

She rejoined the other two by the Keep and they left the ruined town behind. The sky was lightening as they journeyed through the Haemar Pass and Emily spied a cave in amongst the frosty twigs.

“I’ve strength to travel a few hours longer,” was Lydia’s response when they pointed it out to her.

“We’d rather rest,” came Serana’s reply and, shrugging her shoulders, the housecarl complied.

Emily lit a meagre campfire in the centre of the cave and they sat around it. Now was the time.

“Lydia, I believe it’s only fair we are upfront with you about what we are if we’re to travel together,” said Emily and as there was no way to prettify what it was she was to say she continued, “We are vampires.” At these words Lydia’s eyes immediately grew wary, perhaps even fearful and her hand reached for her greatsword. Serana made a complex gesture with her hands and Lydia froze. Only her eyes moved.

“We don’t mean you any harm,” she said. Lydia’s eyes told her she highly doubted this.

“Truly we don’t,” Emily added, “We don’t feed on innocent men and women. Only animals and those who would kill us. We live just as you do but by night. We seek only your guidance and friendship between here and High Hrothgar.” When she had done speaking she asked Serana to unbind her. Serana, hesitant at first, did as she asked. When Lydia could move again she stayed her hand but eyed them warily.

“If you would freely tell me what you are then I won’t harm you, by my swear of fealty as housecarl,” she said, “But don’t ask for my friendship.”

“Very well,” Emily replied though the housecarl's reponse saddened her.

Lydia prepared, on the fire, a meal of grilled leeks and venison while the vampires drank from their tankards.

“Is that blood you have in there?” Lydia asked, eyeing the tankard. Emily shook her head.

“No, honningbrew,” she replied, offering her the tankard but Lydia refused it.

“You can’t make a friend of her, Emily,” Serana said as the Nord lay curled up in her bedroll.

“Perhaps not,” Emily conceded, “But that won’t stop me from trying.” Serana smiled then and put her arm around the Earthling. Emily rested her head against her, smiling contentedly.

The second night brought them close to Ivarstead. The land about it was wild, almost as wild as the Reach and was home to wolves, bears and migrating frostbite spiders alike. It seemed an eternity since they’d last set foot in it when Emily still belonged to the Dawnguard. The way into Ivarstead lay over a stone bridge that spanned a shallow river.

“How long will it take to make the climb?” Emily asked.

“Two days,” Lydia replied, “Three if the weather’s bad.”

“We’d better stop in town for the day then,” said Emily, “It’ll be sunrise in another two hours.”

They crossed the bridge and made their way down the quiet streets, searching for the tell-tale sign of an Inn. There were none in the streets save for a few robed strangers. The moment Emily set eyes on them she felt a shiver run the length of her spine. Serana noticed and asked.

“No, it’s nothing,” Emily replied. Then she noticed a sign swinging in the mountain breeze. They turned toward it and the strangers turned and looked in their direction, torchlight flickering off polished bone.

The air inside the Inn was warm, fuelled by the firepit at its heart. Emily went to book the rooms whilst Serana and Lydia took seats by the fire.

Serana feigned calm indifference to the Nord and took a book from her bag but once in a while her eyes flicked across to her.

“That’s the rooms sorted,” said Emily as she joined them, “Fancy a drink?” She saw Lydia’s eyes momentarily flick over in their direction but ignored this.

“See if they have any Stros M’Kai rum,” Serana replied, dropping the coin into Emily’s hand. Emily pushed the coin back into Serana’s hands and Serana quirked in eyebrow in mild puzzlement.

“Remember I said I’d get the next round?” she asked playfully, “The dragon sort of put a stop to that before.”

“Alright then,” said Serana as Emily turned and made for the counter. She returned a minute later carrying a large green bottle and a bottle of mead. Serana set aside her book as Emily handed her the bottle and they sat together on the bench.

“Sera, what do you think will happen when we meet these Greybeards?” Emily asked. Serana set down the tankard.

“Really, Em, your guess is as good as mine,” she replied, “Did that book I found in Helgen not offer any clues?” Emily shook her head.

“I had a bit of a read at it yesterday while you were asleep,” she replied, “It talks a great deal about the origins of the Dragonborn, about the Emperors of Tamriel and a group that call themselves the Blades. Nothing about learning the Thu’um though.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see then,” said Serana, leaning back on the bench. Emily reached into her bag and pulled out two dice.

“Fancy a game?” she asked the vampiress.

“Alright,” Serana replied.

“Lydia, do you want to play too?” Emily asked, looking over at the housecarl.

“No thank you, my Thane,” Lydia replied. Emily nodded and she and Serana tossed a coin as to who would go first. The rules were simple. The dice were thrown and the number multiplied by three. They would then each throw the dice, trying to get it as close to the number as possible without exceeding it. Serana was a shrewd player and many a night she would walk away victorious but that wasn’t for Emily’s lack of trying.

They played for just over an hour before electing to retire to their room. They curled up together on the bed and Emily pulled the furs up around her.

“I wonder if there’s really seven thousand steps,” she said, already starting to fall into a half doze.

“It’s a tall enough mountain,” was Serana’s reply.

“Now I really am glad I’m a vampire,” smiled Emily, “Air’s going to be thin up there if it’s as tall as all that. No altitude sickness for us, no frostbite. Hope Lydia can handle it.”

“Pfft, I wouldn’t worry about her,” said Serana, “She’s a Nord. Nords were made for the cold. As for the heights, I doubt the Jarl would’ve sent her if she wasn’t capable.”

“I don’t get it,” Emily sighed, “She was perfectly fine with us until I told her. We didn’t turn on her on the road or in Helgen as I’m sure we easily could have done. But now-.” She left the sentence hanging.

“Don’t you remember how you were with me when we first met?” Serana asked, “You were just as scared, just as wary.”

Emily would have liked very much to deny that but she knew it was the truth. She had feared Serana when they first met, believing she only wanted a travelling meal. It was only time and battles fought together that showed her otherwise, that she was another soul like her, perhaps one even as unsure as she in her own way.

“When did it change for you?” Serana asked, now genuinely curious. Emily thought for a moment.

“At Dawnstar,” she replied, “When I let you feed on me. I knew that any vampire who didn’t drink a mortal dry when she had the chance should be trusted. How about you?”

“I can’t truthfully say I ever feared you,” Serana conceded, “But when we said goodbye at the Castle, maybe I didn’t know it at the time but I wanted to see you again.”

“And I you,” Emily smiled. Serana’s hand found hers under the covers and squeezed her fingers gently. Before long they had both drifted off to sleep.

The hours slipped by and before long the sun had set. Emily shouldered her bag and they stepped out of the Inn onto the streets of Ivarstead. The path up to High Hrothgar lay across a bridge at the far end of town past a lumber mill. Emily glanced around for the robed figures as they made their way down the street but they had vanished. The only sounds that greeted them was the rush of water tumbling over the rocks and the wind whistling through the trees. The steps began on the far side of the bridge and were worn smooth by many generations of pilgrims' feet. In places the steps were covered in a thin sheet of ice that cracked under their feet, formed by surface water that had frozen when the temperature dipped following sunset. Emily saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned in time to see a goat spring from the undergrowth and dart up the steps ahead of them. Emily peered into where it had sprung from and saw, in amongst the dry tussocks of grass and the spindly limbs of the scraggy brush, a carved stone structure about as tall as herself and arched in shape. Set into the heart of this was a stone tablet covered in faded weathered writing. Emily conjured a ball of magelight and held it up to the writing.

“What are these tablets about, Lydia?” she asked, turning to look over at the housecarl who was now wrapped up in warm furs in preparation for the climb and carried a torch. She crossed over to where Emily stood.

“They tell the legend of how mankind were taught the Thu’um and overthrew their dragon oppressors,” she explained as she brought up her torch to light up the words, “This tablet tells of the dragons’ rule before men and the power of their Thu’um which could flood the land and blot out the sky.”

“How many are there?” Emily asked, casting her magelight further up the steps.

“Ten if I remember right,” Lydia replied, “Come on, we’d better keep moving. The sun will be up before we’re even halfway.”

The steps were uneven and steep in places, subsiding down toward the edge of the precipice. They kept close to the mountainside, at times holding onto the rock to keep their balance. For the first hour or two into the climb they saw only a few grazing mountain goats though at times when they lifted their heads to the wind the desolate howl of a lone wolf reached their ears. They came upon the second emblem whose rocky surface was scored with cracks left by water freezing and thawing by turns. This one told of man’s creation and how the dragons presided over them.

“So, the dragons enslaved them the moment they were created?” said Emily as she studied the stone tablet.

“Much the same as vampires enslave their cattle,” Lydia replied, shooting a cold sideways glance at them. Emily noticed Serana’s eyes flash dangerously at these words.

“Cattle?” Emily asked, hoping to draw Serana’s attention from the housecarl.

“It’s what mortals call those enthralled by vampires,” Serana explained.

“Is your protégé still in training?” Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My ‘companion’,” said Serana through gritted teeth, “Knows a lot more than you give her credit for. And you are on thin ice. If it had been up to me we would have left you at Whiterun. But Emily trusts you and I trust her.” Lydia fell silent and they continued.

Their progress was slowed by falling snow as midnight approached. Snowflakes coated their armour and furs, catching in their hair and eyelashes and fizzled as they came into contact with the torch. As they climbed the coarse earth and rock gradually became whiter and whiter, covered in an ever deepening layer of fresh fallen snow. In the shifting shapes ahead created by the swirling snowflakes Emily saw a dark hunched silhouette. Fearing it may be a troll she fumbled for her blade. The snow made it difficult to discern whether or not the object ahead was moving but as they drew nearer to it the torchlight revealed it for what it was. The snow before the stone emblem was spattered with blood. It pooled around the corpse of the Nord woman and lay thick. Emily gripped her dagger tightly as she looked about her and saw Serana and Lydia had done the same.

“What is it?” she asked, “Wolves?”

“Wolves don’t leave messages,” Lydia replied as she caught sight of words sticky and red plastered across the stone carving. Warily Emily brought up the magelight to look.

“The True Dragonborn comes,” she read aloud, “What’s it mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Serana, looking around, “She isn’t dead long. We should move on.”

“If we leave her like this the wolves will have her,” said Emily. Lydia was eyeing her as though she were about to eat the woman and Emily met her gaze.

“I am a stranger to Nord customs, Lydia,” she said solemnly, “How are Nords traditionally buried?” Her words clearly caught the housecarl off guard and it took her a moment to reply.

“Some are buried in the ground,” she said, “Others prefer to be burnt on a funeral pyre.” Emily looked about at the barren landscape.

“Then I apologize if she would have preferred fire,” she said, “But there’s no wood up here.”

The ground was hard and for over an hour they toiled at their work, digging as deep a grave as the earth would allow. The woman was interred there and Lydia said a prayer to Arkay before closing the grave. They moved on again, more cautiously than before and Emily kept close to Serana. Lydia was quiet. The two vampires’ actions concerning the corpse had given her reason to think.

They passed another stone tablet at three in the morning as the snow began to let up but they did not stop to look.

The sky was beginning to lighten and Serana scanned the mountainside. “We’ll need to find shelter soon,” she said.

They found shelter in the form of a cave close to the fifth stone tablet which marked the mountain’s halfway point. It was cold inside, each rock coated in frost and the harsh crack of shifting ice rang out to them from the darkest recesses. Lydia planted her lit torch in the snow and built a crude fire of dried moss that somehow managed to survive in these harsh temperatures. Emily spread out her cloak by Serana and sat cross-legged, looking into the small flames. For a time none of them spoke.

“She was a pilgrim, wasn’t she?” Emily spoke up at last.

“She must’ve been,” Lydia replied, “There are few other reasons to come up here. The game isn’t good and there are no ruins to explore.”

“It’s that message more than anything that worries me,” Emily confessed. Hermaeus Mora’s words came to her once more, the message of foreboding.

“The True Dragonborn,” she said aloud, “Which implies there’s one those murderers consider false. And if that one is me…” She left the sentence hanging.

“We’d better keep our eyes open,” said Serana, “If we meet them on the climb I’ll make sure they don’t make it back to Ivarstead.”

Time passed slowly in the cave and more than once Emily found herself staring at the cave entrance as though expecting the robed strangers to come charging in. At one point she fell into a fitful doze and woke with a start at mid-afternoon, shrinking back from the encroaching sunlight as it shone in through the mouth of the cave. She woke Serana and they retreated further back into the shadows where they settled once more.

At sundown they left the cave and resumed the steep climb. Many of the steps were blanketed in a thick layer of snow with only the topmost edges poking through. The only vegetation was the odd spindly snow-bedecked pine and the only animals they saw were goats and snowshoe hares. At one point Serana saw a pair of green eyes glowing between two close-growing pines but when she reached for her bow the bush-tailed shadow turned and bolted.

It was midnight when they heard the howls. Emily conjured a ball of magelight and shone it about. But they kept out of reach of the light and she saw only a wet nose or a whisking tail. The path they followed had widened out, more than tripling the angles from which they could be attacked. Ahead of them a rocky wall straddled and overhung the path on both sides and they made for it, dogged by the shadowy shapes. They could hear excited yelps and barks from the younger members of the pack. They broke into a run and sprinted for the rocky overhang. Emily expected at any second to feel the weight of the animal slam into her and send her sprawling to the snow. But it never came and presently they noticed all sound had ceased.

“I guess they didn’t fancy their chances after all,” Lydia smiled, turning to look back the way they had come. They could just see the shadowy four-legged shapes slinking back over the rocks and out of sight.

“This doesn’t seem right,” Emily said quietly to Serana. Serana nodded.

“The sooner we reach the monastery, the better,” she replied.

They turned back to the overhang and started off into it. Emily’s eyes wandered restlessly about, settling on the icy rocks sticking up out of the ground and the icicles hanging overhead. Her boot dislodged something from between two rocks and she watched as it rolled out, skittering into the torchlight where it came to a halt. Light reflected off the smooth yellowed surface and peeked into the two darkened recesses. Emily looked up from the skull and noticed that more of the grisly remains littered the shadowy corners. There were ribcages, femurs and more of the grinning skulls. Some belonged to goats, the long curved horns decorating the skulls, some were much smaller, belonging to rabbits and other small rodents but others looked unsettlingly human. The sight made Emily shiver far more than the mountain air and they hastened on.

Three wicked little eyes watched the trio slogging through the ankle deep snow. A thin thread of saliva ran down over the thick rubbery lips bedecked with brutish fangs and clung to the white shaggy fur. It shuffled along over the rocks, hairy knuckles bracing on the ground as the comparatively stumpy legs carried the muscular torso forwards.

A rock skittered loose and dropped down onto Lydia’s helmet, making it ring like metal struck by a hammer. She looked up and scrambled back as she saw the shaggy beast plummeting down towards her. It landed heavily in the snow and roared. Emily let out a startled outcry, reaching quickly for her blade. Serana readied an icy lance on her palm and threw it at the hulking beast. It embedded itself in its shaggy shoulder and it turned roaring more in fury than pain. By now Lydia had recovered herself and had pulled her greatsword from her back. She ran at the beast, swinging the great blade but the troll whirled with surprising speed, knocking the blade to one side. Lydia rolled with the blow, clinging to the blade and brought it up again, cutting a neat gash across the troll’s chest. It roared, buffeting the woman with globules of spittle and hot fetid air. She closed her eyes under the onslaught and then when the troll drew back and the air receded she opened her eyes in time to see a clawed hand swinging toward her. She tried to move but she was too late. It caught her in the stomach and she was flung back onto the snow. She saw the blood spreading across her leathers before the pain flooded her senses and she grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them again she saw her sword lying a few feet from her and beyond it the troll. It was shambling purposefully towards her. She thrust herself out towards her greatsword, one hand gripping her stomach to try and staunch the flow of blood. She fell short by a few inches. When she looked up again she saw the two vampires converging on the beast. One wielded icy lances while the other was dancing just out of reach before hurrying forward to stab with her small blade. Their figures wavered before her eyes and the sounds of battle sounded indistinct. Then her head dropped forward onto the snow and she saw no more.

* * *

The world around her was black and cold. She was dead, she knew it. But if that was so, why did she ache so? Was Sovngarde not a place where all mortal wounds were healed? She heard voices around her and she groaned into her arm which lay beneath her head. A flickering light danced before her closed eyelids. Perhaps it was the light of Sovngarde’s heavens. Slowly she willed her eyes to open and when they did she was greeted by fire. It was a small fire with moss burning and curling in on itself at the heart of it. Beyond it she saw, as her vision came into focus, pale stone. She tried to move and a cold hand rested upon her arm. She reflexively recoiled from it and a gentle voice admonished her.

“Easy, you mustn’t move too much,” said the voice, “I’ve done what I can for your wounds for the moment. They were awfully deep.”

“The troll,” Lydia replied.

“Is dead,” the voice replied. Lydia craned her neck around to look at the speaker. It was the blonde vampiress. Her companion was kneeling by her.

“What happened?” Lydia asked them.

“The troll knocked you out,” Serana explained, “We managed to kill it and then we brought you here.”

“Where’s here?” Lydia asked, looking around.

“A small cave,” Emily answered, “We left the overhang behind and followed the steps further up. We found the cave not far from the eighth stone tablet.” Lydia closed her eyes for a moment. The pain in her stomach was still great.

“Em, go to my pack and fetch out some Marshmerrow, rock warbler eggs, gleamblossom and juniper berries,” said Serana. She moved nearer to the housecarl. Lydia opened her eyes and watched warily as the blonde vampiress retreated to the back of the cave and pulled open a leather pouch. She withdrew from it a pestle and mortar, a bundle of strange glowing flowers, two small green eggs, a bunch of small pale green berries clustered together on a twig with spiky green leaves and several reed-like plants. She also pulled out a bottle of mead and hastened back to her companion with the ingredients. Serana set to work, first cracking the eggs and skimming off the yolk into the small bowl. To this she added the marshmerrow and began crushing it into a thick sticky paste. A sweet smell drifted towards her nose from the crushed stems and she watched as the vampiress took the bottle from Emily, uncorked it and added it to the mixture. She then set the bowl down on a flat rock and gingerly moved it closer to the fire. When the mixture began bubbling gently she lifted it from the rock and moved to the housecarl’s side.

“You’ll need to drink this,” she said. Her voice was not quite so gentle as her companion’s but there seemed no ill intent behind her words. She helped the housecarl to sit up and drink the potion. It was sweet and warmed her through, a warm tingling spreading out from her stomach to her extremities. As the housecarl lay back down the vampiress conjured water from her fingertips as Emily had once seen Angeline do at the Solitude alchemists and wash out the bowl.

Then she began work on the second potion.

“What will this one do?” Emily asked as she watched Serana mix the stamens of the glowing flowers with the juice of the juniper berries.

“This will speed up the healing process,” she explained, “I’ve already given it a bit of a boost with the last potion. This one is less extreme but longer lasting.”

Once the second potion had been given the housecarl slept a while. Emily took up her accustomed position at Serana’s side and rested her head on her shoulder.

“How much longer til we reach the monastery do you think?” she asked.

“I don’t think much longer,” Serana replied, “Our guide here said there were ten stone tablets. We’ve found eight. I think another few hours should get us there. So long as we don’t run into anymore trolls.” She looked over at Lydia at these words.

“I hope not,” came her companion’s reply as her arms circled about her, “One is enough.” Serana smiled.

“Come on, we should get some rest,” she said.

* * *

It was a few hours later when the housecarl woke again. Her side still ached but more dully than before. Apparently the potion the vampire gave her was doing its work. The vampire in question was sitting cross legged by the fire. Her blonde haired companion had fallen asleep with her head in her lap. Lydia frowned. This was not normal vampire behaviour, surely. She dropped her gaze uncertainly for a moment. When next she looked the vampire was looking over at her, firelight reflecting off her red eyes. She couldn’t help an instinctive shiver at the sight but she hid it well.

“I uhh…,” she said slowly, “I misjudged you, both of you. I apologise.” For a moment Serana didn’t reply.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she said at last, “And I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

“I owe both of you my life,” Lydia continued, “Thank you.” She saw a small flicker of a smile as the vampiress responded.

“I guess we can call it even then,” she said, “As you got us up here in the first place.”

After a time Lydia slept again, more easily this time and when she awoke it was dark outside the cave. Emily was all for delaying their trip another night but she shook her head and got stiffly to her feet. The potions had done their work and though she was forced to move cautiously to avoid jostling the wound too much beneath the bandages she was able to walk.

“I’ll make another restorative when we reach the monastery,” Serana said as they left the cave.  
It was six hours before the towers of the monastery came into view. The night was clear and the dark brickwork was silhouetted against the undulating turquoise ribbons of the aurora.

“So that’s the home of the Greybeards,” said Emily as they drew nearer.

“That’s it,” Lydia replied, “No one but those summoned and accepted by the Greybeards are allowed within those walls.” Emily turned to her then, slight concern showing on her face.

“They will allow you and Serana in though, won’t they?” she asked.

“Only the Greybeards can answer that,” Lydia replied.

“Well, I won’t go in unless they let you both in,” Emily said, “The sun will be up in a few hours and you, you need to keep warm and get some rest.”

The steps up to the monastery divided in two halfway up, leading to two sets of iron doors. They took the steps on the right and followed them up past an offering chest. Emily reached the door first and, steeling herself for a moment, set her shoulder to it and heaved it open.


	17. Master Arngeir and the Ghosts of the Past

Inside the monastery was dimly lit by two braziers sitting at the bottom of two sets of stairs. Ragged banners fluttered in the wind that blew past Emily through the open doors. Jagged holes, like those found on the word walls, had been cut into the faded fabric.

“Hello,” Emily called, “Anybody home?” She heard footsteps and a figure, a man robed in grey, walked slowly across the centre of the room towards them. His face was cowled and he had a knotted grey beard. “I’m answering your summons,” Emily continued, “Are you one of the Greybeards?” The old man nodded.

“I am Master Arngeir,” he said, “I speak for the Greybeards.” At these words he gestured back further into the room where three more robed figures were emerging from the adjoining rooms and corridors.

“May we come in?” Emily asked.

“You have brought others with you?” His question was not accusing, merely curious.

“My companion, Serana,” Emily replied, “And our guide, Lydia.”

“Very well, you may enter,” said Master Arngeir and Emily pushed the door open wider and the three of them stepped from the doorway. They followed Master Arngeir into the centre of the room.

“Before we go any further,” said Master Arngeir, turning to face Emily, “We must first ask a small test of you so we can make sure you truly are Dragonborn.” Emily noticed the other Greybeards nodded but said nothing.

“What kind of test?” she asked.

“Let us taste of your voice,” Arngeir replied.

“Taste of my voice?” said Emily uncomprehendingly, “What do you mean?”

“Shout at us so that we may know your Thu’um for ourselves,” Arngeir explained. Emily nodded.

“I know only one word,” she said.

“That is fine,” said Arngeir, “Everything has its beginning.” Emily drew a deep breath and shouted a single word.

FUS!

The blue energy erupted from her open mouth and struck the Greybeards, causing them to stagger back.

“Sorry,” Emily said quickly, putting a hand over her mouth.

“Dovahkiin,” Arngeir replied, “There is no need for apologies. As followers of the Way of the Voice and practitioners of the Thu’um we are not so affected as other mortals. You cannot harm us.”

“Why am I Dragonborn?” Emily asked. It was the question she most yearned to ask.

“Because the gods wish it,” Arngeir replied, “There are those who believe that Dragonborn come into the world during times of great strife.” Arngeir’s voice faltered here for a moment as though he was not comfortable with the subject. “But we will talk more of that later.”

“But I’m not a Nord,” Emily said, “Nor was I born here.”

“That is not important,” Arngeir explained, “Dragonborn can hail from anywhere and be of any race.”

Emily didn’t feel like explaining her otherworldly origins so she let the matter drop. Instead she asked, “Are there any other Dragonborn?” Her thoughts returned to the blood spattered stone carving and the body.

“There have been many down through the ages,” replied Master Arngeir, “As for now, we do not know. It’s a matter of conjecture as to whether more than one Dragonborn may exist at any one time. All we know is that you are the only one to be revealed to us thus far.”

“I see,” Emily replied, “So, what happens now?”

“That depends,” said Master Arngeir, “Why exactly have you come here?”

“Because you summoned me,” Emily replied, “And the Jarl said I should come.”

“What is the Jarl to your own will?” Master Arngeir replied, “You still made a choice therefore you have a reason.”

“I…well, I want to find out why I’m Dragonborn,” Emily answered, “What it means.”

“Then we can guide you in that pursuit,” said Master Arngeir, “Come, it is time to assess your Dragonborn abilities.” Emily followed him further into the hall.

“First we will teach you the second word of Unrelenting Force,” began Master Arngeir, “Master Einarth will be your teacher.” Another of the Greybeards, almost identical in appearance to Master Arngeir save for his beard being unknotted, stepped forward. He made a gesture with one hand as he spoke a single word and a shockwave rippled from his hand across the stone floor. In its wake deep gouges carved themselves into the ground where they began to glow like hot coals.

“Step forward, look and learn,” Master Arngeir instructed. Emily did as he asked and as she gazed on the gouges they seemed to swim before her eyes and unconsciously she found herself mouthing the word written there. How she was able to read and comprehend it, she knew not. The glow in the gouges receded and this told Master Arngeir that the word had been learnt.

“You learn a new word like a master,” he said, “Now Master Einarth will gift you his knowledge of ‘Ro’ which means balance. With it your Thu’um will be more precise.” Master Einarth stood facing Emily and she felt an energy pass between them, ruffling her hair and causing the candles by the doors to flicker. Then Master Arngeir spoke up again. “Now, another test,” he said, “Masters Einarth, Wulfgar and Borri will conjure spectral targets. I want you to strike them with your Thu’um. Consider this a test of your accuracy.”

Master Wulfgar was the first to step forward.

“Fiik lo sah,” he shouted at the ground before him. The floor blossomed with blue energy and from it rose a figure. It was identical in appearance to the man who conjured it save for its pearlescent blue quality. Emily shouted, adding to the shout the second word she had learned. The energy that now burst from her open mouth swirled, focusing in on the ghostly visage and when it struck the Greybeard aspect, it staggered back as though under the influence of a powerful gale.

Master Borri and Master Einarth followed one after the other and their aspects, too, fell before Emily’s Thu’um. Shouting, though she hadn’t known it two weeks before, felt as second nature to her as speaking or seeing.

“Your Thu’um is precise,” said Master Arngeir when the test had concluded, “Next we will see how you learn a new shout. For this test we must go out to the Courtyard.”

With that he and the other Greybeards led them towards the back stairs which led to two sets of iron doors.

The courtyard was large and comprised of a flat area on the edge of the cliff. Dominating it was a large stone tower with a fire burning at the top. Another fire burned at the base and over near the cliff edge stood a set of iron gates out on their own with no accompanying wall. Emily thought this strange until Master Arngeir explained the next task.

“Master Borri will teach you, ‘Wuld’, the first word of Whirlwind sprint which will allow you to run swiftly with the breath of Kyne at your heels, speeding you along,” he explained, “Then you must use your new shout to pass through those gates before they close. He gestured to the iron gates. Emily nodded and waited as Master Borri whispered the word of power and again the rippling shockwave crossed the ground, leaving the claw-like gouges in its wake. Once more Emily gazed upon them and read the word in the unknown language. Master Borri gifted her his knowledge before crossing over to the iron gates while Master Wulfgar took up his position between two stone posts.

“Bex.” Borri spoke the single word and the iron gates flew open as if on their own. Then Master Wulfgar shouted. The first two words Emily heard but the third was lost in the howling gale that sprung up around him as he surged towards the gates. They closed long after he had passed through and then it was Emily’s turn. She took up her position where Wulfgar had stood moments before. The call of, ‘Bex,’ was given again and the gates opened. This time Emily shouted as she broke into a run and immediately a whistling sound filled her ears as a howling gale sprang up at her back. She felt as though she had wings on her heels as the gale sped her on toward and through the gates. She heard them close behind her with a clang.

“Well down, Dragonborn,” said Master Arngeir, “But these are only your first steps towards your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Emily questioned, “What is my destiny?”

“That we cannot tell you.”

“How come?” Emily asked.

“You must find it for yourself,” Master Arngeir, “We can only show you the path. Whether you follow it or not is entirely up to you.”

“I asked you before about whether or not there are other Dragonborn,” said Emily. Master Arngeir nodded. “The reason I asked is because of what we found on our way up the seven thousand steps.”

“What did you find?” Master Arngeir asked.

“A pilgrim had been murdered by one of the stone carvings and there were words written in her blood on the stone. They said, ‘The True Dragonborn comes.’”

“Then it sounds to me like someone is looking for you,” said Master Arngeir gravely, “And their intentions are far from benevolent.”

“I was afraid of that,” said Emily.

“I think, with this new information, I know what path we must set you on,” said Master Arngeir, “Follow me.” With that he turned and headed back into the monastery. They followed. He led them to a small antechamber where a desk stood. Sitting upon it was a map of Skyrim.

“Scattered throughout Skyrim are word walls where words of power are inscribed in the dragon tongue,” explained Master Arngeir, “To face this unknown foe you had best be prepared. Whirlwind sprint and Unrelenting Force will serve you well but there are other words. Other shouts.” He gestured towards the map. “The first words I want you to seek out are the three that make up the disarm shout, a good defensive shout that does exactly what it says. Too many people put all their energies into learning things that will harm. Few think of their own defense.”

“Where can I find the words?” Emily asked.

“They can be found in Silverdrift lair, Snowveil Sanctum and on Eldersblood Peak. With each place named he pointed to a location on the map. “To unlock the meaning of these words you must absorb the lifeforce of slain dragons,” Master Arngeir continued. Emily gulped at the thought but remained silent. “Return here when you have the words and I will set you upon your next path.”

“Do any of the Greybeards know the disarm shout?” Emily asked.

“All of them do,” Master Arngeir replied.

“Then, can’t we just come back here and ask your knowledge like with the last two?”

Master Arngeir shook his head. “No, Dragonborn, you must temper the words you learn with experience so your wisdom is not outstripped by the strength of your Thu’um.”

“I understand,” said Emily solemnly, “May we rest here for a while?”

“Yes, High Hrothgar is open to you and your companions, Dovahkiin. The living quarters are along that corridor.”

“Thank you,” said Emily as they made for the archway that led onto the corridor. She paused at it.

“By the way, I want you to know my real name,” she said, “It’s Emily.” Master Arngeir simply smiled and nodded.

Emily sat down on the edge of the bed. It and most of the furniture in High Hrothgar was made of stone, built for service and not for comfort. The only concession was made in the form of a sabrecat pelt stretched taut across it.

“Where do you think we should go first?” she asked. She had her map open on her lap and had marked down each of the locations on it.

“They’re all a fair distance,” Lydia remarked, “We should probably visit the farthest, Snow Veil, and then we can visit the other two on the way back to High Hrothgar.”

“That’s the words sorted but how about the dragon?” Emily asked, “We can’t just bank on one of those to appear as we need it.”

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take,” said Serana, “For now we’ll focus on what we do have control over.” She turned to Lydia. “Will you be fit to travel?”

“I should be,” Lydia replied, “Those potions of yours did their work.” She patted the bandages and winced slightly. “Maybe a little tender yet,” she conceded, “But I can travel.”

They spent the day in the monastery. Whilst Lydia rested Emily set herself to exploring as much of the old monastery as she could. She discovered a large room with a stone table surrounded by numerous chairs. At the centre burned a fire in a shall brazier. Emily supposed this was the closest the Greybeards had to ‘central heating’. Smiling slightly at her own joke she left the room.

The Greybeards had a great many books and for well over an hour she sat cross-legged, absorbed in one volume or another. It wasn’t long before Serana too found this room and they read together in a companionable silence.

Throughout the day on her wanderings Emily came upon the Greybeards meditating before the small windows of the monastery or sitting in quiet contemplation. Indeed an air of silence hung about the place at all times, broken only when she, Serana and Lydia spoke to one another. When she asked Master Arngeir why this was so, he told her that the voices of the other Greybeards were too powerful and they could not speak without using the Thu’um. This power, though unlikely to harm those of the Dragonblood, would be dangerous to others.

“Do you think that will ever happen to me?” Emily asked Serana as they sat in the sleeping quarters, “If I keep using the Thu’um? Will I have to stop speaking?”

“If that ever did happen to you the whole world would be doomed,” Serana chuckled, “I’ve never known you to go longer than five minutes without speaking. Why, you even talk in your sleep?”

“I don’t, do I?” Emily asked, “What do I say?” This last question she asked half anxiously. There were thoughts better left unspoken for now and when she did speak them, if indeed she ever spoke them, she wanted to be fully conscious.

“A lot of mumbling mostly,” Serana replied, shrugging her shoulders, “And something about someone called Maylene.” At this Emily sat bolt upright. She had almost forgotten about Maylene. Or so she thought.

“What did I say about her?” she asked.

“Something about how you needed time to think,” Serana replied, “That it wasn’t working. You mentioned her before, didn’t you?” Emily nodded.

“We didn’t part on good terms,” she said, “That’s why I went to Norway. To get away and give myself time to think. She made me feel like I was a terrible person if I went out for the night, told me I was a drunk if I had one pint of beer. She didn’t like me talking to other women. When I got to Norway it felt…it felt like…freedom.” Serana moved a little nearer to her.

“I might miss Earth at times,” Emily admitted as she looked up at the vampiress, “And my family but I don’t miss her.”

“Why did you pay court to her?” Serana asked.

“We met at the Glastonbury festival,” Emily explained, “That’s a music festival in Somerset. Everyone pitches their tents in the fields and listens to the bands that come to play. She’d pitched her tent a little ways off. Then the first night of the festival a storm hit. Nothing new there but it ripped away my tent. She let me stay in hers and we got talking.” Emily looked at her hands that her folded in her lap. “She seemed alright then,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “So we kept in touch after that.”

“Then what happened?” Serana asked gently.

“Then we would meet up in the holidays or weekends when time would allow,” Emily continued, “And after a time she invited me to come live with her. That didn’t last long. Almost as soon as we were under the same roof she began to show her true colours.”

Emily rubbed at one arm as she paused for a moment.

“I moved out shortly after,” she said, “Got myself a little place of my own. A bedsit. But we still talked once in a while. I don’t even know why.”

“How long after that did you go to Norway?” asked Serana.

“All that happened in the space of about four years,” Emily answered.

“She sounds horrible,” said Serana quickly. Then she faltered. “I mean…”

“No, you’re right,” Emily replied, resting her hand on Serana’s arm, “She was horrible. I think it took until the trip to Norway for me to fully realise that myself. Thanks,” she said, “I think…I think it did me some good to talk about it.” Serana smiled at the Earthling.

“Well, you were there when I wanted to talk about my father,” she said, “I think the least I can do is return the favour.” Emily smiled back.

“Guess we’d better start packing for our trip tonight,” she said, “Back to the frozen North.”


	18. Frost and Deception

They left High Hrothgar at nightfall and began the trip back down the mountain. It took them two nights and where they could they sought the same shelter they had sought on the way up. They passed the troll where it lay dead in the snow and by the grave of the murdered pilgrim. At last they reached the twinkling lights of Ivarstead. The night was still young and so they continued onward.

The journey to Snow Veil Sanctum took them just under two weeks, the greater part of which saw them slogging through the deep snows that buried even Winterhold's most well-travelled roads. The land was desolate, roamed only by wolves and other predatory creatures. Lydia was, as Serana correctly surmised, perfectly capable of coping with the bitter cold. She shivered little and only wrapped her furs tighter about her when the winds got up and whistled in their ears.

It was late on the twelfth night that they spotted the dark stone dome protruding from the cold white ground. At the top it was open to the elements and a spiral set of stone stairs led down to a lower level. Barring their way was a door. Unlike any ancient doors she'd seen in other ruins, this one had iron bars extending from the central lock to the sides. Emily pushed at the door but it would not budge. First Serana and then Lydia joined her but still it would not open.

"It's no good," said Emily, stepping back.

"There has to be a back entrance around here somewhere," said Lydia, looking around. Then she caught sight of several stone arches of Nordic make dotting the snowbound landscape and a barely discernible path that ran between them. She pointed this out to them and they followed it down over the drifts. It took them to a similar formation buried in the side of the glacial cliff itself. This door, mercifully, lay unlocked and Emily pushed it open, peering cautiously inside. But all within lay still. The tunnel the door opened onto gave out into a large chamber. Pale moonlight drifted down through a craggy hole in the ceiling. There was a large pile of rubble beneath the hole and in the midst of it lay the forlorn bleached bones of one less fortunate than they. Emily made a thorough search of the room and on finding no word wall they continued onward. They passed down through a tunnel once blocked by a claw locked iron door but this had been disarmed long ago and the door had long since sunk into its deep groove in the floor.

At the far end the tunnel opened out into a burial chamber. Emily heard the chanting in her head long before she laid eyes upon the wall. She looked around cautiously in case the wall should be guarded. But it was not and Serana pointed out the draugr that lay stretched out before the sarcophagi.

Emily strode up to the word wall, trying to give the semblance of boldness and courage but these walls and their trance-like chanting always filled her with a measure of uncertainty. Before her the word glowed. As it brightened the world around her dimmed and the chanting filled her ears. Then the word, 'Zun,' was emblazoned upon her mind and the light in the claw-like gouges faded and dimmed. The word was learnt and they soon departed, glad in their ease of obtaining the word.

Their second target was to prove more hard won. Silverdrift Lair was a large Nordic ruin close to the small town of Heljarchen. It was in Heljarchen that they had their first encounter with the robed figures in masks.

The journey to Heljarchen took them another two weeks for progress through the snow was slow. The Inn, the Nightgate, lay upon a shallow mound of earth and rocks close to the road. The three adventurers climbed the steps made from slats of wood wedged deep into the ground so only one edge of it poked out. Emily pushed open the door and they stepped inside. The fire pit crackled invitingly and they each took a seat around it. Serana ordered a bottle of Surilie Brothers for them to share and they each drank deeply of it though only the Nordic housecarl felt the full benefit which showed in the colour that crept into her cheeks. She fetched herself a bowl of venison stew and tucked into it heartily while Emily booked two rooms for the day. She and Serana took the first and retired to it as the sun began to rise outside. They did not stay awake long and soon fell into a doze, Emily's hand still resting on the cover of a book she'd fetched from the shelf over by the door.

They were awoken around mid-afternoon to the sounds of raised voices coming from the Inn's main room. They recognised one as the voice of the old Innkeeper. The other two were harshly accented and stirred an old memory in Emily. These two sounded British, Cockney to be exact. But this was impossible and Emily knew it.

"You have no right coming in here and harassing my customers," the old Innkeeper was saying, his tone sharp.

"We follow the orders of our Lord and we will leave your establishment only when we have concluded our search for the False Dragonborn."

These words shot a surge of cold fear through Emily and her eyes darted nervously about the room as her whole frame shook. Presently her eyes came to rest on a wooden wardrobe. It looked as though it should house two comfortably and then some. She seized Serana's hand and dragged her from the bed and into the wardrobe. Here they pushed in amongst the cloaks and coats, jerkins and doublets. Emily heard the door to one of the rooms being roughly pushed open. Then there was a space of silence before another door was pushed open. Quietly, gingerly, Emily moved in front of Serana and put her eye up to the keyhole. Through it she could see the room: the bed with the bedclothes half-strewn across the floor and her armour stacked up in the corner. She swore an oath under her breath, having wished she'd elected to keep it on. She was painfully aware of how little protection her old faded and frayed hoodie and jeans afforded her. Then her eyes snapped to the door as it opened. Two strangers came into the room, looking around at their surroundings. At least, that was what they appeared to be doing. It was hard to tell as their faces were obscured by horned bone masks. They wore flowing brown robes and their gloves were fashioned to look like they were made of large overlapping scales. Emily saw the blades belted at their hips and gulped. One of them made for the door which led to the small bathing chamber while the other cast his eye over the discarded armour. Then his gaze fell upon the wardrobe and Emily flinched back as she saw him start to move toward it. She felt Serana's hands on her shoulders and they both froze.

Then another sound met their ears. It was the sound of the door opening.

"Can I help you?" came a familiar voice. The footsteps halted halfway to the wardrobe.

"Are you the occupant of this room?" asked the robed stranger.

"No, the room belongs to my Lord," Lydia replied coolly, "And I don't think he'd be very happy with you rummaging through his personal effects." She cut an imposing figure, made all the more striking by the dents and scratches on her armour.

"And who is your Lord?" asked the robed stranger slyly.

"Lord Oghvar of House Stormwolf," Lydia answered.

"And what business do you have in such a backwater village as this," the other cultist, a woman, asked, "Hardly the place for a wealthy lord."

"You ask a lot of questions," Lydia said calmly, folding her arms, "We had business in Windhelm, securing a trade of silver with a jeweller in from Evermor. We are now returning to Markarth. Now, if that answers all your questions…" She stood then, eyeing the cultists sternly. Emily watched the cultists' reactions carefully.

"Who knew she could lie so cunningly?" Serana whispered beside her. The cultists stood a moment longer and then left the room, throwing backwards glances at the housecarl.

Lydia waited for a moment longer until she heard the Inn's front door open and close. Then she crossed over to the wardrobe.

"They're gone," she said. The door opened and the two vampires stepped out from among the clothes.

"Phew," said Emily, glancing over at the door, "Thanks, Lydia. That was a close one."

"I think it's safe to say we know who killed the pilgrim," Lydia replied. Emily nodded.

"We should leave the moment the sun sets," said Serana, "If we must ever fight them then let it be on the road." Lydia made to leave the room but Serana stopped her a moment.

"Thank you, Lydia," she said, "That was definitely a fight best avoided."

"You're welcome, my Thane," Lydia replied but without the usual stiffness she had in her voice when addressing the vampire.

After she left Emily set to changing back into her armour.

"I feel like we just dodged the hangman's noose back there," she said, subconsciously rubbing at her neck. She was now glad they had elected to leave Finn back at the cottage as she couldn't imagine how they would have stopped him from squeaking and giving away their location. They'd left him in the cottage but with access to the outside through what Emily had dubbed, 'The Otter Flap,' on the back door.

At sundown they left the Inn and made the comparatively short journey to Silverdrift Lair. They knew something was amiss as they strode up to the arched front section of the structure. Two bandits lay dead, blood swathing the ground and spattering the walls around them.

"Do you think it was them?" Emily asked. They knew who Emily meant by 'them' but Lydia shook her head.

"No, a draugr did this," she pointed to the ancient Nordic axe protruding from the back of one of the bandits.

Stepping over the prone forms they headed cautiously inside. The first room they came to looked to have been turned into a camp of sorts for the would-be tomb raiders. Here more bodies were stretched out, some still arched in the convulsions of agony that took them at the time of death. Pots and pans lay scattered about along with torn and bloody bedrolls. A campfire lay with half the embers scattered across the stone floor and a bloody haunch of beef still lay on an altar which had apparently been re-appropriated to serve as a butcher's slab.

None of them cared to hang around any longer so they pressed on.

They followed a stone passageway which brought them past another dead bandit to a wooden door. Emily pushed at it but found it would not budge so she began to look around. Serana noticed another passage which seemed to lead further in and beckoned to them before heading down it. This passage brought them to a double iron door. Mercifully this one opened out onto a large chamber comprising of an upper level hewn from stone and a lower level which could be reached by sets of wooden spiral stairs. They elected to stick to the upper level and made their way across the stone interconnecting paths to the far side. Here Emily paused, looking ahead and then down at the ground. She put out a hand to stop her two companions and pointed wordlessly at the pressure plate set into the ground. Then a terrible growl met her ears. Shambling towards them, its desiccated face a rictus, was a draugr. It wielded a war axe which it was waving threateningly above its head. As it drew nearer and idea struck Emily and she brought her foot down heavily on the pressure plate. The effect was immediate. A spiked iron gate swung around with such speed and force that when it struck the draugr the cruel spikes sunk deep into undead flesh and clung on as it whiplashed back to its original position, dragging the now lifeless draugr back with it.

Taking care to avoid further pressure plates they moved on past the gruesome display until they came to a section where their way was blocked by iron rods. Lydia soon found the pull bar set into the side of one of the stone posts and pulled it, opening the way from them. Beyond there was an iron door and this opened onto a small chamber where a dead Orc lay in one corner. But it seemed his death was not in vain for next to him lay the body of a draugr, knotted flesh pulled taut in a much delayed rigor mortis. Emily found a pull chain which raised the iron portcullis, allowing them onward.

The next room they came to looked to have once been a small dining hall or conference room judging by the long stone table that ran the length of it. Pacing it were two draugr clad in rotting leathers. One carried a battleaxe while the other carried a sword. They did not seem to have spotted them and so Emily drew her bow from off her back and nocked an arrow. The battleaxe wielder fell to her strike and the sword wielder turned on them. Blue energies ripped from his maw, throwing Emily back against the wall. Stars popped before her eyes as she struggled to her feet. A blue spectral wolf controlled by her companion leapt before her, fur bristling as it stared down the draugr, teeth bared. She saw Lydia close with it, her greatsword brandished before her. Again and again they clashed, sparks erupting with each blow of steel on aged iron. Then the draugr's blade was sent skittering into the dark and Lydia saw her chance, plunging her greatsword into its chest.

"Are you alright?" Serana asked Emily as she rubbed at her head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, "Just a little bruised." She rested a hand on Serana's arm. "Come on, let's go, sooner we find that word wall, sooner we can get out."

They wandered through chambers and passages, peering into each cautiously unless any undead denizens should be stirring. Once in a while they came upon the marks left by the bandit raiders, a blood stain here, a discarded iron weapon there.

"Why would they come here?" Emily asked Serana.

"The promise of treasure I expect," Serana replied, "Besides, you could ask the same of us."

"True," Emily conceded.

The next point of interest they came to was a long stone bridge that stretched across the top of the large chamber they had passed through earlier. On either side and overhead stretched iron bars designed to keep those traversing the upper levels from falling. At the far end stood a draugr, regarding them with ice blue eyes. It stared for a moment before turning and shambling back the way it had come.

They gave chase, hurrying down the passage after it. They heard guttural shouts up ahead and when they burst into the large chamber the draugr had disappeared into they found themselves staring down four draugr. Evidently the one they had encountered in the passage had gone to warn its brethren in the main chamber. Emily could see the goal of their endeavours lying just beyond. But her gaze was brought sharply back to the draugr as it drew back, bracing itself against the ground.

"Take cover," she yelled as decayed lips parted. She dove for a large chunk of fallen stone, dragging Serana along with her. The shockwaves rippled over the rubble seconds later, sending up sprays of grit that stung their eyes. She nocked an arrow, leaning out from behind the rock to fire. One of the draugr doubled up in pain as the arrow struck. Serana leapt out from behind the rock, an icy spike floating above her palm which she sent in pursuit of Emily's arrow. It struck true and Lydia took the opportunity to converge on the draugr. Emily dodged out from behind the rock as another of the draugr reached her hiding place. She drew herself up and shouted, remembering the words the Greybeards had taught her. The draugr was pushed back across the ground, head bowed under the sudden wind that had sprung up in the wake of her voice. But it soon recovered and came shambling towards her. Emily sidestepped as it swung its blade at her and countered with her ebony dagger. It scored a gash in the draugr's desiccated flesh but she was forced to leap back again as it sent a recoiling attack her way.

A bolt of lightning struck it in the side of the head and it crumpled. Meanwhile Lydia had taken down the first and now turned on the third, the one that had raised the alarm in the first place. She set her teeth as she charged at it. It raised its axe and she broke through its defense with a devastating blow from her greatsword, cleaving its head asunder. It too crumpled and now only one remained that the three adventurers converged on.

Its shout sent Serana crashing back against a pillar and Emily lunged at it but again and again she was forced to leap back to avoid the great sweeping blows it made with its battlaxe. Lydia succeeded in getting past its defences long enough to land a blow in its side but most of the damage was absorbed by the ancient metal armour it wore. It recoiled momentarily and then with a savage cry it raised its battleaxe up over its head. Lydia readied her defense, waiting for the axe to come down, bracing the muscles in her arms into bands of steel. But the battleaxe instead fell from its limp fingers and clattered to the ground. A shard of ice lay buried in one eye socket. It seemed to waver before them for a moment and then it fell, the light in its eyes dying out. Serana joined them by the body of the draugr general. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead but otherwise seemed unharmed.

"Alright, let's go and get that word," she said, "After all we went through," here she gestured to the draugr whose bodies lay in amongst the rubble, "I'm hoping it was worth it."

"I hope so too," Emily replied, "I suppose we'll only really find out once we find a dragon." She turned to look at the word wall which lay on the far side of the room. Already she heard the familiar chanting and she strode over to it. And then, before the dust of battle had settled on the bones of the fallen, the second word had been learnt and the three adventurers departed from the dungeon.

The climb to Eldersblood Peak proved to be an arduous one. They travelled from Silverdrift Lair to the city of Morthal. Little had changed since their last visit. The same bleak air hung over the place like a miasma, accompanied by the same fetid smell of the marshes.

They made a beeline for the Inn which was just as deserted as when they'd last visited. But then, she realised, it was even more so than when last they'd set foot inside. The air inside was quieter too than she remembered. Then it hit her. The last time they'd stayed at the Inn there was an Orsimer bard, a jolly enough pleasant sort but an awful singer. She crossed over to the bar and paid the Innkeeper a day's rent and she gladly took the money.

"There's something familiar about you and your companion," she said as she pulled a tankard out from behind the bar, "Though I don't recognise the third member of your party. I've seen precious little business so I can recognise most who pass through. You've been here before, haven't you?"

"Yes, but it was some time ago," she replied, "There was a bard here when we were here last. An Orsimer. What became of him?" The Innkeeper frowned and shook her head.

"He disappeared just three weeks after you left," said the Innkeeper, "There have been whispers about the Dark Brotherhood and Benor swore he saw a shadowy figure leaving old Ogvel's house out in the marshes."

"Who's Ogvel?" Emily asked, "And who are the Dark Brotherhood?" The Innkeeper looked visibly shocked.

"I'm not surprised you, being an outsider, not knowing Ogvel," she said, "He lived in the marshes for years. A harmless old hermit who never bothered anyone. But someone murdered him just the same. It was the Dark Brotherhood. But where were you raised not to have heard of them?"

"I was raised on an island," she answered and this was true enough.

"They're a group of cutthroat killers, assassins," said the Innkeeper in a low voice, "They seemed to have been gone for so long we were all feeling hopeful. Now with their return and dragons things are worse than ever."

"We'll be sure to stay out of their way then," said Emily, cradling the tankard of mead in her hands.

"What business brings you to Morthal anyway?" asked the Innkeeper at last.

"We're looking for a place known as Eldersblood Peak," Emily replied, "Would you happen to know the way? All we know is that it's somewhere in the mountains near here."

The Innkeeper frowned and shook her head but an old adventurer in dented armour who sat close by pricked up his ears.

"Did I hear you say Eldersblood Peak?" he asked. His voice was old and cracked.

"That's right," Emily replied. The Innkeeper resumed cleaning tankards, a thankless task for they were all pristine, having been cleaned time and again for want of something to do. Emily sat down by the adventurer.

"To get to Eldersblood you have to go out to the road and head west," he said, "Keep going until you see a cairn with a red rag lodged between the rocks. Then turn and follow the dirt path next to it. Follow it all the way up and you'll reach Eldersblood Peak."

"Thank you," Emily replied and she made to get up but the man took a hold of her wrist.

"But you best be careful up there," he said, "It's no place for flippancy and complacency, especially with the dragons having returned. Eldersblood was once a site of dragon worship and I wouldn't be surprised if it is again. If not, then there's trolls."

"We'll be careful," Emily replied, "The two travelling with me are both capable fighters and I can handle myself in a fight. But we'll be wary, you can be sure of that. We've fought trolls before and one of us has felt their wrath before."

"Well said," the old adventurer nodded, "I wish you luck then." Emily thanked him and went to sit with her companions. She filled them in on all the old adventurer had said. Lydia winced noticeably at the mention of trolls but nodded just the same.

They passed much of the day in their rooms and when night fell they set out, following the old man's directions. They headed west along the road and walked for well over half an hour. Emily had begun to think they had missed the cairn in all the snow when Serana pointed it out to her up ahead, the red rag flapping in the wind. They followed the dirt track alongside it up into the mountains. The track wound this way and that as it climbed the side of the mountain, looking out on breath-taking views. Here and there it was difficult to follow, being little more than a smoother bit of terrain in among the craggy rocks and the way it hairpinned back and forth did not make the task any easier and made the climb feel much longer than it was.

"Will we get there and back before sun up?" Emily asked Serana.

"Unless we run into any trouble we should," Serana replied.

About halfway up they came upon an abandoned campsite. The campfire was long since cold and the bedrolls were covered in a fine layer of snow. It seemed no on had been there for some time. They moved swiftly on, not wishing to meet the same fate as the unknown camper. It was gone midnight when they spotted the stone archways, the first sign that they were nearing the peak. The ground under their feet became rockier and the ravine at their side ever steeper. The second sign that they were nearing the top came in the form of stone steps wedged into the frosty soil of the mountainside, much in the same manner as those leading up to High Hrothgar.

At last they came to a set of steep stone stairs. They were cracked in places and so they had to watch their footing as they scaled them. At the top of the first flight was a stone altar, the like of which they had often seen in Nordic ruins. Lying on the cold surface was a large thin necked bottle. Emily identified it as a healing potion and a strong one at that and so she handed it to Lydia as Serana had long ago explained that potions were useless to vampires.

The next set of stone steps brought them to a truly awe-inspiring sight. At the far end of the frigid plateau they found themselves on was a stone wall that partially encircled the peak. It was decorated with the traditional draconic heads typical of ancient Nordic architecture. The wind blew sharp and cold at these heights and when they saw the word wall which made up the centrepiece they hurried over to it and Emily hearkened to the thronging chanting.

But as the word emblazoned itself upon her mind they heard a sky-shattering roar. They hurried back from the wall and looked skyward. Soaring down from the heavens thick with clouds was a great blue dragon. It landed heavily on the top of the word wall where it regarded them steadily from his lofty perch. It had scales the colour of packed ice and row upon row of lethal spikes resembling icicles ran down its back to its scythe-like tail. Its head was similarly spiky with a mane of white closely resembling shavings of ice.

"Dovahkiin, Zu’u loost bahlok wah dreh grah naal gein do hin fron," he thundered. Emily saw him rearing back and knew at any moment fire or frost would smite them. She hurriedly conjured a ward and out of the corner of her eye she saw Serana do the same, tugging Lydia behind the rapidly forming wall of magicka. Then all she saw was blinding white. She felt the air around her drop in temperature, a feat seemingly impossible before, and small shards of ice and snow pelted the barrier. Freezing clouds engulfed them on all sides and when they emerged out of the dragon's frigid breath, despite the ward's protection from the brunt of the thu'um, their hair, skin and armour were covered in a fine layer of frost and glittering crystals. And in the midst of this the dragon rose slowly up into the sky with great heavy wingbeats.

They scattered, each finding cover behind one of the great many rocks scattered about the peak. Each carried bows and each tried desperately to line up their shot as the dragon wheeled overhead. It swooped down then, loosing its wintry breath on Emily's chosen hiding place and as it did so Serana and Lydia stepped from behind cover, loosing their arrows. One tore a hole in the dragon's wing while the other bounced harmlessly off the scaly hide. The dragon hardly altered its flight path and flew back up. Then, after wheeling around, it came straight back down, landing next to Serana's vantage point, the jarring landing causing her to stagger against the rock.

Emily broke from her hiding place, armed with her dagger. Serana had conjured a ward in readiness as the dragon drew breath. She jabbed at its tail and hind legs but the dragon took no more heed of her than of a flea and loosed his breath upon the vampiress who braced herself against the winter storm, ward raised. The tail swung around and Emily leapt over it. Lydia loosed another arrow from her vantage point which managed to embed itself between two scales. The dragon reared back with a roar, lashing its tail and forcing Emily to make another desperate leap. This time she landed astride the scaly tail, thankfully close to the spaded end where there were no spikes. She wasted no time in scrambling up the tail. If the dragon felt her he gave no indication, concentrating his fury on the housecarl who had dove back behind her rock.

Emily reached the beast's shoulders, dagger clamped firmly in her teeth, gripping the spines for support in this draconic rodeo. Then she flung herself at the scaly neck. At this the dragon took notice and gave a roar that almost deafened her before flapping its scaly wings. Emily almost let out a yell as the ground dropped sharply away and it was well she stopped herself for she would have dropped her blade into the white, swirling nothingness that engulfed the peak. Instead she clung desperately to the beast's neck as they rose higher and higher. The dizzying height made her stomach lurch and when the beast swooped down her heart leapt up between her teeth, a still lump but one still fully capable of conveying her terror. Still gripping tightly, she squeezed her eyes open. She was seated just behind the dragon's head and she could see where the scales of the head met those of the neck. She observed that they moved independently from one another and there was a sizeable gap between them. An idea took form and as the dragon swooped down again she put it into action.

She pried her dagger from between her jaws and grasped it tightly in one hand, gripping the neck with all available remaining limbs. Then as the dragon hovered before Serana, wings inscribing great sweeping motions in the stormy skies, Emily plunged the dagger in betwixt the two scales. The effect was immediate, the dragon rearing back with a frost-filled roar where it lashed its neck from side to side. It was all Emily could do to hold on. Then it was off, flapping up into the sky. Emily took the dagger and stabbed again at the gap, blood spilling out over her fingers. It made the dagger difficult to hold on to and she gritted her teeth as the blade slid in her fingers. She twisted it, wedging it in deeper. The dragon roared again but it lurched to one side, almost unseating her as the roar gurgled in its throat.

Serana and Lydia watched the ragged shape from the ground. It was listing to one side and each wingbeat seemed more of an effort than the last. Then abruptly the wings half-seized and it slowly dipped forwards.

Emily's heart was in her mouth once more as the ground rose up to meet her as quickly as it had dropped away before. The head met the ground first and the impact jarred Emily loose and she tumbled over and over in the snow, eventually coming to a halt.

"Emily!" Serana cried as she hurried over to her. She stopped short, however, when the dragon's body crackled and hissed before bursting into flames, melting away the spiky scales like the ice they so closely resembled. Then a bright pulsating light flowed from dragon to woman, melting the snow and ice beneath them both so a haze of steam hung over the battlefield. As the light faded Serana breathed a sigh of relief as the Earthling was now sitting up and looking at the skeletonized carcass of their foe. Lydia came to meet them.

"It's done then," she said, relief evident in her voice. Emily nodded before taking the hand offered to her and getting to her feet.

"You never cease to amaze me with your ability to find new ways of putting yourself in danger, Em," said Serana, her expression serious but Emily could just see a barely discernible twinkle in her eyes showing through. In reply she smiled and put an arm around the vampiress, burying her head in her shoulder. This earned her an affectionate embrace that made riding on the back of a dragon wholly worthwhile.

"How much time until sunrise?" Serana asked. Emily took a look at her watch and her expression grew troubled.

"Only another two and a half hours," she said. Serana frowned.

"Perhaps it's time we tried out that broom of yours again," she said, "Think you're up for it after your last flight?"

"I like the prospect of flying better than trying to find a cave up here," she replied.

"You fly with Lydia then," said Serana, "I'll follow along behind as a Vampire Lord." Emily nodded. Lydia took some coaxing to get astride the broom, being distrustful of magic like many Nords but Emily eventually convinced her and once Serana had taken her Vampire Lord form the three of them took to the skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Dovahkiin, Zu’u loost bahlok wah dreh grah naal gein do hin fron - Dragonborn, I have longed to battle with one of your kind!


	19. The Cultists Close In

They soared off down the mountainside, roughly following the hairpin track that had brought them up. Lydia clung to Emily for dear life and she never once let her gaze lower from the open air ahead of them. She breathed a deep sigh of relief when they touched down on the rocky overhang that overlooked the city of Morthal. Serana landed close behind them, assuming human form and they ran for the cover of the Inn. According to Lydia they beat the sun by a mere twenty minutes and Emily slumped gratefully back against the wall. She booked them a room in which they passed the day, electing to leave at nightfall for High Hrothgar. Emily was in favour of flying there to cut down the length of their journey but one look at Lydia told them they would be walking. She told them that nothing short of an emergency the like of which they had just faced would get her back astride that broom. Emily agreed they would walk and so when night fell they left the Inn.

"We've come all this way and you collected those words," said Serana as they left the city behind, "So, can you use them now?"

"I think so," Emily replied, "At least, when that dragon died and I absorbed its soul I saw the three words in my head and they sort of… lined themselves up. I guess all we can do is wait for a bandit to show up and-." Serana shook her head.

"We'd better not wait for that," she said. Then she drew her dagger from her belt, "Disarm me."

Lydia stopped and Serana stood before Emily, gripping the dagger tightly in her hand. Emily drew herself up and summoned the words in her mind.

ZUN HAAL VIIK

There was a blast of energy and Serana's dagger was ripped from her hand. It flew through the air and landed in a snow drift. Serana retrieved it.

"I think it's safe to say we're ready for whatever Arngeir has ahead of us," she said. Emily nodded.

The journey back to High Hrothgar took them another two weeks. The blood on the carved stone still remained and they made the climb cautiously. Master Arngeir was waiting for them in the main hall as though he had been expecting them.

"I can feel it in the skies that the words to disarm are yours," he said, "Next I will send you in search of the words that will bend Skyrim's wintry gales to your will." He led them back into the little antechamber where the map was kept.

"The three words that make up the frost breath shout can be found in the marshes in the ancient tomb of Folgunthur, high on the slopes of the Hjaal mountains at Skyborn Altar and on the rocky plateau of Bonestrewn Crest in the volcanic tundra to the east."

"Thank you, Master Arngeir," said Emily, "We will head out in search of them immediately."

"I sense something presses you with urgency, Dragonborn," the old man said gravely, "What is it?"

"We nearly had a run in with those who killed the pilgrim," Emily explained, "They were searching the Inn we were staying at. It was Lydia's quick thinking that likely avoided a confrontation."

"They wore robes and bone masks," Lydia added, "And the way they spoke. They had all the markings of a cult."

"I think it would be best if we don't jump to conclusions," said Master Arngeir, "But I agree that they are far from benign so confrontation is best avoided until we can find out what they want."

"If you want my opinion," said Lydia, biting into an apple as the three of them sat in the main hall, "I think until we confront them we won't find out what they want?"

"You may well be right," Serana replied, "But for now we should focus on finding those words. Where first?"

"Either Skyborn Altar or Folgunthur I think," Emily replied, "Skyborn might be a bit easier to get to. Those marshes around Folgunthur, I've never been there but you've told me enough about them for me to be wary."

"Skyborn Altar it is then," said Serana, "Come on, we'd better go or we won't get halfway down the mountain."

Skyborn Altar proved to be an easier place to reach than first envisioned. It lay not far to the East of Eldersblood Peak and was just up the mountain from the small mining settlement of Stonehills. They stayed in the mines during the day and made the climb by night. It was atop the mountain that Emily had her first encounter with a wisp mother. They were approaching the word wall when Emily saw a glinting light out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look but saw nothing. A moment later Serana turned sharply, drawing her blade from its scabbard.

"Did you see it too?" asked Emily. Before Serana could reply something pale and misty burst from the sacrificial altar before the wall. It resembled a woman with her head cowled, her body tapering into drifting rags below her waist. She had a hooked nose, a jutting chin and long raking claws. Surrounding her were balls of light that frisked and gambolled about her like lambs but the sight of them made Emily go cold with fear.

"What is that thing?" Emily cried. It was unknown whether or not this outcry offended the icy being but the wispmother let out a horrible screech as she conjured icy spikes upon her palms. Emily dodged to one side as an icy shard shot by her ear close enough to take a few stray strands of hair with it. She rolled and lightning leapt from her palms as she scrambled to her feet. One snaking bolt struck the wispmother who threw back her head, screeching again. Lydia had drawn her blade and Serana had likewise conjured lightning on her palms. Serana struck next as Emily and Lydia closed in. But as the lightning struck where there had once been one icy being, there now were four. The wisps deftly wound their way about these shades. Lydia recoiled as one flew past her and she felt some of her energy go with it. Then it was struck to the ground by Serana's lightning bolt and became an inert wisp core.

The air was full of icy shards flung from all directions and the trio of adventurers were forced to stay on the move.

"We need to strike the original," Serana shouted over the icy gale.

"Which one is that?" Emily shouted back, dodging a wisp as it came hurtling for her.

"The brightest one," came Serana's response. Emily's eyes darted between the rapidly shifting spectres, gritting her teeth. This was no easy task. The one closest to the altar struck her as the brightest so she ran at it, ward raised. But as the bolt struck and the shade vanished in a misty cloud she realised her folly. Three still remained. Lydia struck down the two remaining wisps while Serana turned on one of the remaining icy visages. This time the bolt struck true and all the remaining shades vanished in a whirl of icy clouds.

"What was that?" Emily asked as they stepped through the mist.

"A Wispmother," Serana replied, "No one knows exactly what they are or where they came from. My mother had a few theories though."

They left the glowing remains of the wispmother and her children behind as Emily stood before the word wall. The knowledge passed from it to her and they soon departed.

The ruins of Folgunthur proved more treacherous to get to. Serana had once told Emily that there were things in the marsh that would strike fear into even the elder vampiress. As they waded through the murky waters and fetched up on mudflats dense with reeds, moss and lichen Emily saw what Serana meant. Eerie sounds penetrated the thick fog that hung over the fetid waters and often sounded as though they had emanated from right behind them. More than once they turned with wary eyes only to see nothings. Somehow this was worse as Emily's imagination conjured up a thousand different horrors each time, each phantasm more terrifying and gruesome than the last. She kept close to Serana and stopped to look around when she did. Once a torchbug flew up at her feet and she let out a yelp of surprise. She tried to leap back but her boots were sunk deep in the mud and would not budge so the result was that she came crashing down into the shallows.

"And this coming from the one who rode a dragon," chuckled Serana as she helped her to her feet. Even Lydia quirked a smile of amusement at this remark.

At last a dim silhouette high above them emerged from the mist. They recognized it as the rocky arch of Solitude.

"We must be getting close," said Emily. Then her boot crunched down into something more yielding and dry than the thick oozing mud of the marsh. It scattered from her boot in small grey flakes. It was the ashes of a long dead campfire. As they looked around more shapes emerged from the gloom. The pointed shapes of hide tents, the smaller rounder shapes of discarded pots and pans and the arching mound of the ruins beyond. Emily stooped and picked up something from one of the bedrolls. It was an old faded journal.

"Looks like someone's been here before us," she said grimly. She opened the book and flicked through the pages, her brow knitting as she read what was written there. It detailed an artefact known as a fragment of the Gauldur amulet and the ivory claw necessary to obtain it.

"Judging by the lengths whoever wrote this journal went through to get this claw and enter this tomb, I think we should watch our steps inside," she said, handing the book to Serana who scanned the pages. She nodded. As the night was marching on they wasted no time in heading inside. As they stepped over the threshold they were greeted by the stone draconic statues common in Nordic ruins. The first thing they noted was that the tomb was unusually well lit, another indication that they were not the only ones within the walls. Bone chimes hung on either side of the door. Emily stopped just before the doorway.

"What is it?" Lydia asked.

"I can smell blood," Emily replied and she noticed Lydia winced slightly at this remark.

"It's fresh," Serana added. They moved further down the hall and soon found the source of the smell. The body of a man lay in a pool of his own blood. Next to him lay the body of a draugr, still clutching the bloody blade that brought an end to the man's life. They moved on past the grisly spectacle, past two more of the draconic statues to a small room that lay beyond. It was dominated by an altar and before the altar was a stone pedestal bearing a claw shaped indentation. Eight pillars lay in the corners of the room, each bearing the likeness of one of the totem animals held sacred by the ancient Nords. The way ahead already lay open, the claw's work evidently done and so they wasted no time. Serana was clutching her dagger, a shock spell dancing on the fingertips of her other hand while Emily carried her bow and Lydia her greatsword. As they turned a corner they heard shambling footsteps. Ahead was a draugr in decaying leathers. As soon as its icy blue gaze fell upon them it muttered an oath in some long forgotten tongue and pulled an arrow from its quiver. Emily braced herself against the stonework and summoned the words of the disarm shout. As the energies struck the draugr its weapon was torn from its grasp and went skittering into the dark. Then Serana loosed her bolt of lightning and the ancient body crumpled, leaving them free to continue.

The corridor opened out into a large room lit by large iron braziers. Lining one wall and standing on a raised dais were several iron coffins. A long stone stable stood before the dais and it was laid with ancient Nordic goblets and plates.

"Stay on your guard," said Serana as she eyed the coffins. As they stepped out into the room five of the coffins burst open and their undead inhabitants stepped forth. They drew their weapons and converged on the trio of explorers. Emily darted to one side as one brought down his greatsword with a swoosh. She skidded on the floor and when she looked down she saw that the floor below her was covered in a thin film of oil. It covered much of the stonework before the dais and when she looked up she saw it was dripping from an oil lamp suspended above them. She was then forced to dodge as another of the draugr aimed a blow with a war axe at her. As she reached the table she scrambled up onto it, scattering plates and goblets where they clattered to the floor.

"Serana, Lydia," she cried, pulling an arrow from her quiver, "Get up off the floor." Lydia and Serana did as she asked and Serana jumped up next to her while Lydia gained the altar. Then Emily let the arrow fly. It struck the lamp which broke free of the thin rope holding it and tumbled towards the stone. On impact it shattered and the flames leapt hungrily along the ground, devouring all in its path. One by one the draugr were set aflame. One still managed to nock an arrow and fire it at the two vampires atop the table. Serana ducked as it whizzed overhead, striking the wall behind them. Before the draugr could launch another arrow it and the two on either side tumbled to the ground where the flames engulfed them. The smell of burning flesh pervaded the air and Lydia clamped a hand over her nose. As the flames ran out of oil to burn and died away they leapt off their vantage points to confront the two remaining draugr. One wielded ice magic which it had used to douse the flames on its and its comrade who wielded a heavy double axe.

Lydia ran at him while Emily and Serana, lightning bolts at the ready, rounded upon the magic user. Two on one really wasn't fair but as they knew the draugr wouldn't offer them the same courtesy they hardly cared. Their shock spells quickly nullified the draugr's magicka reserves and he fell with a guttural moan. The double axe wielder was run to ground soon after and they began to search the room. There was little of value save for a couple of linen wraps and sticks of firewood which Lydia fashioned into a crudely made torch.

At the far end of the room there as a doorway which led onto a dark spiral staircase. In the light of Lydia's newly lit torch they saw the iron grating concealed in the gloom. Below it was a deep pool of water. She surmised it was likely a trap and would open the moment any of them stepped on it so they sidled around it and climbed the creaking wooden stairs. This brought them up to a walkway which overlooked the room they had just traversed. Once again Emily and Serana caught the familiar odour of fresh blood and once again they had not far to look. Slumped against a stone pillar, drenched in blood was a robed Dunmeri man. One hand clutched a white claw-like object, spattered in the man's blood. Emily stooped to pick it up and wiped it clean on the deceased Dunmer's robes.

"I think we've found our journal writer," she said as she handed the claw to Serana. The tattered journal lying next to the corpse confirmed her suspicions. It detailed all the man had learned about some legend concerning a powerful mage called Gauldur whose three sons, on finding the source of his power lay in an amulet he always wore, killed him and stole the amulet before going on a rampage through the land. They were killed by the legions of men sent by the High King and led by the Archmage Geirmund and sealed away with writs of sealing.

"Looks like he was after the power this Gauldur guy had," said Emily as she scanned the pages.

"Sounds like a man after my father's heart," Serana said, folding her arms, "If we find this amulet in here while we're looking for this word wall, what should we do with it?" Emily thought for a moment.

"I don't know," she replied, "It says here the three sons were consumed by the amulet's power. It sounds dangerous. Can we destroy it?"

"Doubtful," Serana replied, "Magickal artifacts aren't easily destroyed. It would take a powerful wizard."

"You are powerful," said Emily. Serana smiled.

"You give me entirely too much credit, Em, there are others far more powerful than I out there," she said, "Besides, I'm not a wizard." Emily frowned, puzzled, and tilted her head to one side.

"A wizard, at least, the true meaning of a wizard, is one well versed in magickal artifacts and their construction, proper use and destruction," Serana explained, "Nowadays the term is used casually for any magic user and the original meaning has been mostly lost."

"I see," said Emily, "So what should we do then?"

"I advise we bury it or toss it into the ocean," Lydia put in.

"It's as good an idea as any," said Serana, "Assuming we find it in the first place of course."

Serana strode over to the pedestal and placed the claw into the indentation. On turning it there was an audible click and a creak overhead as a wooden drawbridge lowered down next to them, opening the path forward.

This path brought them through a series of interconnected catacombs. Several draugr stood in traditional burial poses but none moved as they passed. Candles burned in the alcoves where offerings of ancient coins and decayed withered remains of flowers.

"How are these candles still burning?" Emily whispered.

"I read somewhere that the draugr keep them burning," Lydia replied, "They tend the graves and clean the tombs for their undead lords."

"Amongst the Draugr," said Serana.

"Hmm?" said Lydia.

"Amongst the Draugr," Serana repeated, "By Bernadette Bantien. I had a few of her books back home."

At the far end of the catacombs they came to a series of lowered portcullises and lining the walls on either side were four levers.

"Looks like some kind of puzzle," said Emily as she neared one of them, "We'd better stick close to the walls in case of traps." They each stood close to the wall, each by one of the levers, leaving one unoccupied. Emily pulled the one nearest to her and one of the portcullises rose.

"Sera, try pulling that one next to you," she said. Serana did as she asked and one of the portcullises opened but the one Emily had opened slid closed.

"Hmm… that's not right," said Serana, pulling her lever again to reverse the action.

"Lydia, try pulling that one opposite," she said. Lydia pulled the lever and to their collective delight all four portcullises slid open and they passed through. Down and down, deeper into the ruins they delved, past ruined passages and candlelit alcoves. At one point the tunnel they were in rumbled ominously and Emily tugged Serana into an alcove just in time as a cascade of boulders juddered loose by time and tectonic movement rumbled past them. Taking care not to dislodge any more they went through the rotted wooden doors at the bottom. Beyond the door lay another puzzle in the form of a room with iron doors at either end which led to interconnecting rooms that connected the two ends of the room to one another. In the centre of the room was an iron grating concealing a wooden staircase that led down into the depths. They soon discovered the solution as in one room there were moveable animal totem pillars and in the other were iron plaques bearing the same animals set into the traditional carvings that resembled the large bearded heads of men. When the pillars were lined up so they matched the plaques and the pull chain in the main room pulled then the grating slid open, allowing them passage. Two draugr guarded the room but they spotted them ahead of time and Serana and Emily shot them one after the other from a distance.

The stairs below the grating brought them to a waterlogged tunnel lit only by the brazier burning at the bottom of the stairs. Emily's hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she beheld the inhabitants of the dank tunnel. Three spiders regarded them with glistening eyes, clicking their mandibles menacingly. Mercifully neither of her two companions held the same fear of these giant arachnids and while Emily attacked from a distance with bow and spells Serana and Lydia closed in with blades raised.

Beyond the tunnel lay the Hall of Stories where the history of those buried was recorded. But here, unlike other tombs she had seen, which granted was not a great many, the walls were perfectly smooth, any trace of any such history either having been removed with great care or it had never once existed. Coffins lined the walls and in this hall they faced off against warriors they guessed to have been among those who chased down the one who now lay buried here with a piece of the amulet. They were formidable and rose in great numbers. Emily disarmed all she could with her shouts but some were wielders of magic and nothing save a well-aimed bolt of lightning could rob them of that power. Others could shout and more than once they found themselves slammed back against the curving walls. But their most difficult battle lay beyond the iron door and when they had defeated the company of warriors Emily opened the way using the Ivory claw.

The tunnel beyond brought them to a large room lined with coffins and lit by braziers placed in the maws of the draconic heads that decorated the tomb. Emily felt a growing sense of unease as they crossed the floor. She knew that feeling well, the feeling that something soon would happen. And happen it did. As they reached the centre of the large room, climbing the steps to the raised dais, the coffin in the centre opened and out climbed a draugr with a tall horned helm. His armour was more decorated than his brethren and he carried a sword as black as pitch that pulsed with wicked energies. And then the sound of iron being wrenched loose echoed on all sides as his inner council of followers broke their centuries of silence to fight once more for their master. But as they rose from their coffins Emily noted something different about them. None of them carried weapons and while you might argue that no draugr are quick of thought these ones seemed to move like those in a trance. The three adventurers stood back to back, facing the enemies that advanced on all sides. The mages in their company proved to be the biggest threat as they seemed never to tire and the ice that rained from their palms was unceasing. Emily and Serana kept up their wards as best they could as they fought against the onslaught. Emily's was first to weaken and break and when it did Lydia lunged forward in an act of desperation to strike down the undead ice mage. This blow was not without reward for the draugr fell, its head cleaved in twain but nor was the blow without consequence. Lydia's greatsword clattered to the stonework as Lydia clutched her frozen arm to her side, desperately trying to work her frozen fingers with little success. Serana rounded on the nearest draugr and felled it with a blow to the chest.

"Stay with Lydia," Serana shouted over her shoulder as she advanced on two more of the thralls. Lydia and Emily retreated to the walls, Emily fighting off those who came near with spell and blade. Lydia clenched her teeth. The numbness was spreading up her arm and at the edges where half frozen flesh met undamaged flesh it seared like fire.

Serana brought down another thrall and turned on their master. The undead son of Gauldur laughed a deep guttural laugh distorted by centuries of decay and raised one hand, beckoning the vampiress onward as he brought up his blackened blade to face her. Serana scowled at the undead monster who had once been mortal man. Lightning leapt from her fingertips and she launched it at the draugr. He brought up the black blade and the lightning sparked along it, bouncing off it into the gloom. Bolt after bolt she sent his way only for it to be deflected in the same manner. She then fell back on her blade and advanced upon him. Again and again she dodged to one side to avoid the blackened blade and again and again she struck out. Most of the blows were deflected by his armour and those that did land left gashes that went largely unnoticed. She dodged to one side yet again but this time she moved a fraction too late. The blade caught her across the chest and she fell back onto the ground. Emily let out a strangulated yell as she tore from the housecarl and ran at the draugr who was now raising his blade above his head, a grin of triumph plastered across his leathery features. The blade came swinging down. Then there was a sound like a bell which reverberated around the large room. Before him stood the younger vampiress, braced against the stonework with her dagger stopping his sword's progress. She struggled against him with might and main and he grinned wickedly into her face. Emily gritted her teeth. Then she drew breath.

FUS RO!

The blue energies ripping from her jaws caused the draugr before her to falter, staggering back under the force of her voice. Emily seized the moment to plunge the dagger deep into his neck. His startled outcries died in this throat as he dropped the blade whose clattering echoed about the room. Emily wasted no time and turned to her fallen companion, dropping to her knees beside her. Her armour was wet with blood and her eyes were open but unfocused. Emily hurriedly placed her hands upon the wound, speaking the incantation of necromantic healing. She chanted it over and over as the golden light surrounded her fingers, willing the flesh to knit together and the bleeding to slow. The familiar pinching sensation behind her eyes came but she ignored it, focusing every effort upon her companion. Only when her vision began to swim did she stop. She looked down at Serana and to her relief she saw that she was beginning to stir. She brought a hand up to her chest and looked up at the Earthling.

"Are you alright?" Emily asked, her voice thick with the fatigue left by the spell's effort and her fingers tingling. In response Serana nodded, moving closer as her companion swayed a little where she sat and leant her, her support.

"Come on," she said, "We need to help Lydia, I have some ingredients in my pack that should help." Emily nodded and got shakily to her feet with Serana's help. The wound on Serana's chest still remained as a shallow cut but it was no longer the life threatening injury it had been. It smarted as she knelt by the stricken housecarl. Her arm had turned very pale and Serana opened her pack, pulling out a jar of orange powder that glowed and sparked like fire and bunches of small red berries. She pulped these and mixed them with the glowing grains and some brandy before rubbing the mixture on the housecarl's arm. The twists of vapour that rose from the mixture smelt faintly like smoke and slowly twists of steam began to rise where it was applied. The numb feeling began to recede and at last she was able to feebly move her frozen fingers. Emily retrieved the housecarl's greatsword and helped her return it to its holster on her back.

"Thanks," said Lydia as she flexed her fingers and held her wrist in her other hand as she slowly rotated the joint to ensure it still functioned properly.

"No problem," Serana replied.

Once the mixture had had its full effect Serana sat back against the wall and turned her attention to the shallow cut on her chest. She murmured the incantation and slowly the wound faded until only a white line served to mark where it had been. When Emily sat down next to her she reached up, slipping an arm about her shoulders.

"Not bad back there," she said gently and Emily's heart fluttered at these words as it often did. To anyone else the words would have sounded blatantly understated but to her they welled with praise and affection boundless. She leant gratefully into the embrace and Serana's dark hair fell across her face.

They rested for several minutes in the tomb of Mikrul Gaulderson, regaining their strength and plotting their next move.

"We should go via Whiterun," said Lydia, "We can take the road that leads south around Lainterdale."

"That sounds good to me," Emily replied, "Then we can follow the road east past Valtheim, right?" Lydia nodded.

"We should watch out for bandits there," Serana cautioned.

"There's no need to worry about them," said Lydia, waving her hand, "I know a trail that leads up past a giant camp. They aren't usually a bother and the trail practically takes you right down to the marshes."

"Very well," said Serana, "I suppose we should think about getting out of here first though." This was agreed so they got up and searched the body of the fallen son. On him they found a writ of sealing and a fragment of an amulet. Emily and Serana stuck to their plans concerning it and buried it deep in a crevice Lydia spotted at the back of the tomb. Near the crevice was a tunnel blocked by iron spikes and another pedestal bearing the claw-shaped indentation. Emily opened it with the claw and they hurried onward. At the top of the stone steps Emily heard the chanting and their in the corner, beckoning to her, was the word wall. She crossed over to it and read what was written there, taking the word's meaning into herself. An iron door and the tunnel beyond that brought them practically back to the beginning of the tomb. Here Emily checked her watch and on noting that the sun would soon rise they made camp in the large room below the walkway where they had found the body of the Dunmer. Lydia built a small fire using the discarded wooden beams lying in various piles of wreckage scattered about the room and roasted some potatoes and leeks over it. They uncorked a couple of bottles of mead and sat by the fire, talking late into the day. Lydia was the first to turn in, curling up in her bedroll. Serana and Emily lay awake a little longer. Then they too gave in to sleep and Emily curled up close to the vampiress. As she drifted off to sleep she felt Serana's arm encircle her and she nestled gratefully closer as sleep took hold.

As the sun set and the moons rose over the Sea of Ghosts they set out from the ruins. Emily was glad to leave the claustrophobic stone behind and they trekked across the vast marshes towards the town. From here they headed eastward as planned towards Eastmarch. Just over a week's travel saw them cross the hold boarder from the Pale into Whiterun. The plains were a welcome sight after so much ice and snow and the aurora above them wound like a ribbon across the sky for the night was clear and bright. They passed by the farm that stood up on the hill and the guard posting near the tumbledown archway. Soon they would enter the outskirts of the town where most of the farms were nestled against the protective stone walls. Ahead of them three people stood with torches. Emily took them to be guards. This was hardly uncommon. The surrounding foothills were favoured haunts for bandits and raids on the farm were hardly rare. But as they drew near one looked sharply over at them and Emily felt a chill run through her. His face was obscured by a mask of bone and as soon as they locked eyes Emily felt that they would not let them pass without accosting them. She noticed Serana's hand lingering over her dagger which told her she felt the same.

"Halt," said one of them as they got within five feet of them, "You, you are the one who dares call themselves Dragonborn."

"Sorry?" Emily replied, feigning confusion, "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"You aren't fooling anyone, you are the False Dragonborn, Emily, are you not?" said another. The momentary flicker of surprise told them all they needed to know.

"Our Lord Miraak, he is the true Dragonborn and when he returns to Tamriel, you oh pale shadow of his greatness," he continued, "Your heart will be offered to him." Then, without further speech, they attacked. They fought with fire and Emily hid quickly behind her ward as Serana did the same. Lydia, whose arm had not healed sufficiently yet to wield a greatsword, instead drew a broadsword and kept alongside Emily, taking shelter beneath the ward and striking when she could. Emily shouted at two of them as they drew closer to one another and the force of the shout sent them reeling long enough for she and Lydia to cut them down. Then the three of them converged upon the third. Instead of fleeing as others might've, he instead redoubled his efforts, fighting with fire and blade. But he too fell, blood pooling in the grass of the tundra.

"You said we wouldn't know what they wanted until we fought them," Emily said to Lydia, "I think we know now." Lydia nodded.

"But not where they came from, my Thane," she said.

"Perhaps this might offer a clue," said Serana as she stood up, clutching a smouldering sheet of parchment in her hand. She handed it to Emily who unfolded it.

"Where's Raven Rock?" she asked a moment later.

"That's on Solstheim, an island to the North-east of Skyrim," Lydia answered.

"I think," said Serana, "Once you have this shout, Em, we should go to Solstheim, see what we can learn."

"I think you're right," she replied, "But we'll tell Arngeir what we learned first." Serana nodded.

"Come on, let's get moving before any guards show up," she said, "We might have trouble explaining away these bodies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to play around with lore a bit here. In this story only one dragon soul is required to unlock a shout otherwise this would greatly lengthen the story as we wait for Emily to harvest enough souls for the shouts she needs to know.


	20. Solstheim

The journey to the volcanic tundra of Eastmarch took them another week. From the top of Lydia's proposed path which took them up into the hills close to a giant camp they could see the Bonestrewn Crest. As Emily stood atop a rocky ledge, a ragged black shape passed in front of the misty plateau.

"Did you see that?" she asked Serana who had likewise been surveying the landscape.

"A dragon," she replied, "And it looks like he's guarding that crest." There was nothing more to be said so they continued on.

They camped out in the mines at Darkwater Crossing and set out onto the volcanic tundra as soon as the sun sank behind the Yorgrim foothills. The smell of sulphur hung thick in the air as small geysers bubbled and spewed water up from hidden depths. Lydia spotted a buried Nordic ruin in the distance and told them it had once been the site of an ancient Nordic city. She then asked Serana if she had ever been there and Serana just laughed and told her it was long before her time.

The rocks were covered in red tendrils of creep cluster, Jazbay and Dragon's tongue grew in profusion on the coarse earth and most surfaces were covered in a thin layer of lichen. The moonlight glittered on the shallow pools and shone on the large pale rocks that stuck up out of the ground like giant's teeth. Emily saw the beacon that marked the site of a giant camp on the horizon and heard the faint distant rumbling of the mammoths as they browsed.

The Bonestrewn Crest stood out in the middle of the volcanic marshes, the tallest structure for miles around. Near the top the silhouettes of the great hawk headed monoliths stood out from the surrounding rock.

"How near do you think we'll be able to get before he spots us?" Emily asked her companions.

"Hopefully we'll at least make it to the base of the crest," Lydia replied, "Without cover I don't fancy our chances."

"Lydia's right," said Serana, "And I think I know how we can gain the top without being spotted."

"Invisibility charm?" Emily asked. Serana nodded.

"My thanes, while you may be gifted in the art of magic, I am not," said Lydia, "I will follow along behind and keep to the shadows."

"There's no need," Emily assured her, "Before Serana taught me to turn invisible she could turn me invisible along with her." She held out her hand to the housecarl and after a moment's scepticism she took it. Emily willed herself to vanish and slowly the accustomed fuzzy unreal feeling crept over her and judging by the way the housecarl flinched she had experienced much the same sensation.

"Did it work?" the piece of empty air once occupied by the housecarl asked.

"Yes," Emily replied, "I'm afraid my spell isn't perfect. It always leaves a slight shimmering but I don't think a dragon will notice it. At least, I hope not."

"Let's hope you're right," said Lydia as they began the climb to the Bonestrewn crest. They soon discovered that the rocky plateau was aptly named for bones of all shapes and sizes lay scattered about, adorning the rocks and lodged in gaps and crevices. The empty eerie skulls of fallen mammoths watched the three invisible adventurers from their lofty perches atop rocks far too steep for the creatures to have climbed in life. Emily ducked, almost letting go the housecarl's hand as her ears were filled by a mighty roar. They looked up as the dragon swooped overhead and at first they feared he had spotted them. But he continued on his path with ragged wingbeats, landing heavily on the stone word wall that lay at the far end of the plateau where the bones lay thickest. Even from this distance they could hear his deep growling breath as he sat, crouched with his wing claws and mighty talons gripping the stone. Emily heard the faint sound of a bow being drawn and looked in the direction it emanated from. Then the air sang as an arrow burst from the empty air and shot towards the dragon on its lofty perch. The arrow embedded itself between two scales and the dragon swung his mighty head around in the direction the arrow had come from. He growled savagely as his reptilian eyes surveyed the landscape.

"Ni vonun ko vokun, Nikriin! Grind dii Thu'um!" he yelled as he reared back. Emily saw the orange burning light building in his throat.

"Find cover," she cried and the three of them broke formation, reappearing as they did so. Lydia found cover behind a mammoth skull as a ball of fire erupted from the dragon's maw. It careered toward the two vampiresses as they ran for cover. Serana grabbed Emily's hand as she leapt over a large rock, pulling her over with her and they crouched down on the far side. Emily felt the air above her suddenly superheat as the light became intense. Then came an explosion of heat and light as the fire struck the rock behind them. It sent up fiery motes that smouldered in their cloaks. Emily saw them reflected in Serana's eyes and knew the fear she felt. Scared of little in this world, fire was one of the few exceptions.

She pulled Auriel's bow from her back and nocked an arrow from their hiding place and she saw Serana do likewise. But the dragon was on the move so most of their arrows whistled harmlessly past. One tore through the wing membrane and caused him to falter momentarily in the air. Then he changed direction and soared toward them, mouth unleashing tongues of flame. They broke cover just in time as the flames licked over the rock they had been sheltering behind. They shied from the open where they would be twice as vulnerable. Emily's eyes were frantic, darting around the burning earth. They settled on a stone pillar and now was her turn to take Serana's hand and hurry her over to it. They dove behind it as another pillar of flame struck the earth behind them. The dry air stung their eyes and caught in their throats. Emily coughed on the acrid smoke, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

"How are we going to stop this thing?" she choked out.

"Nivahriin joor," thundered the dragon as he landed before the pillar. The ground beneath their feet trembled. Emily stumbled back against the pillar, collected herself and nocked an arrow, leaning out from behind the stone. The dragon's scaly head was only a few feet from her. She released the arrow and it shot forth. The dragon reared back, thrashing his head from side to side and lashing the ground with his tail. The shaft of the arrow was sticking out of the beast's left eye and it loosed a tongue of flame in its pain and anger. Emily withdrew back behind the pillar as the flames licked over the stone. Serana had conjured a ward and she now pulled Emily behind it as the heat around them grew intense.

"I hope Lydia's okay," Emily shouted over the din.

"Lydia's a capable warrior," Serana shouted back, "Right now we have to look after ourselves." As she said this she was forced to pull Emily back as a chunk of rock came loose, crashing down in front of them. Flames were devouring the thin layer of lichen present on its surface. The hungry smouldering remnants were too close for comfort and so they broke cover. They caught sight of Lydia lining up another shot as they ran from the burning pillar. The dragon turned its half-blinded head to them, flames billowing about its fangs. Lydia fired and the air sang with the arrow's flight. The dragon roared as the arrow struck it in its remaining eye, blinding it wholly and entirely. And then the three converged on the downed beast, now incapable of flight. They attacked with blades, dancing out of reach when the dragon reared, lashing out with tail, wings and tongue of flame. When one was forced to withdraw the other two would hurry forth, blades slashing and tearing at the soft underside. Then as the dragon lunged at Lydia she leapt at its scaly head, grabbing onto one of its twisting horns. The dragon roared in frustration, flailing its head to and fro but Lydia kept her position. Then when it paused she let go the horn and gripped her blade in both hands, plunging it down into the dragon's skull. The blade sank deep and Lydia clung tightly to the hilt, boots braced against the scales as the dragon tossed its head back and forth. Then it shuddered and a gurgling cry erupted from its froth corrupted throat and a mixture of blood and foam spilled out over the mighty jaws and wetted the droughted soil. It's head sank to the ground as its sturdy legs collapsed beneath it and its wings scraped along the dusty earth. Then it lay still.

Emily and Serana slowly approached the housecarl standing atop the dragon as a hunter might stand with one foot on the deer they just felled. Her armour was still steaming and her hair was singed in places. She leapt from her lofty perch as they drew near, landing on the dusty earth as the first flames sprung up from the dragon's carcass. The light around it grew in intensity as it flowed from the beast's prone form to Emily. It filled her eyes with light until she could see nought else. And then it was gone and before her lay a mound of bones to add to those the Crest was named for.

"That was well fought," said Lydia, "Now the word awaits you."

"We couldn't have done it without you, Lydia," Emily replied, "And now it's time to return to Master Arngeir. We need to tell him all that's happened. Will you go with us to Solstheim?"

"The Jarl appointed me to protect you both with my life," Lydia replied, "And I will do whatever is necessary to fulfil that promise I made to him when I swore fealty."

"Then we'll be glad to have you with us," said Emily, turning from the housecarl to the word wall. It was like the others they had encountered and the familiar chanting filled her ears as she stepped nearer to it. As all around her faded and dimmed the word grew brighter until its meaning was emblazoned on her mind. She felt the newly absorbed consciousness of the dragon meet with the words, coiling about them and arranging them in order, filling them with meaning.

"Did it work?" Serana asked as Emily turned back to them. She nodded and turned her attention to one of the still smouldering boulders. Then she conjured up the newfound energy and shouted.

FO KRAH DIIN

A blizzard erupted on her breath, swirling with frozen shards and ice crystals. It struck the rock with its icy blast, immediately extinguishing the flames leaping on its surface, coating the rock in a thick layer of frost. The newly heated and now cooled rock cracked under the second sudden temperature change it had experienced in under an hour with the sound of a gunshot. Emily looked back to her companions.

"I think it's time we speak to Arngeir," she said. Serana nodded.

Just over a week's travel found them back outside the doors to High Hrothgar. Lydia's breath formed clouds in the night air. The tumultuous winds that normally beset the higher slopes were wholly absent and the night was still. It matched perfectly the sombre thoughts of the three adventurers.

Emily put her shoulder to the door and heaved. It swung slowly open, metal grating against stone and they stepped inside. Master Arngeir was meditating in the main hall and he looked up when he heard their approach.

"Dragonborn, you have returned," he said, "I sense something different in your approach."

"We met those robed strangers on the road," Emily explained, "They stopped us on our journey from Skyborn Altar to Bonestrewn Crest. We were passing through Whiterun Hold at the time."

"And what happened?" Arngeir asked.

"They told me I was the False Dragonborn," Emily replied, "They said they would offer my heart to someone named Miraak who they claimed to serve. They came from Solstheim."

"Miraak, that is not a name I am familiar with personally," Master Arngeir replied, "However, I am familiar with its meaning in Dovahzul, the Dragon tongue. It means Allegiance Guide. What kind of omen this signifies, I do not know."

"I think we need to go to Solstheim," Emily replied, "And find out what's going on. If we don't I'm sure this Miraak will send more of his followers."

"Maybe so," said Arngeir, "But we must not act hastily."

"Arngeir," Serana cut in, "If we hadn't killed them, they would have killed us. I'm not going to wait for them to strike again and put the lives of those I care about in anymore danger." Master Arngeir looked from Serana to Emily and then to Lydia.

"It seems you have already chosen your path," he said solemnly, "Very well. Do you believe you are ready?"

"As ready as we can ever be," Emily replied, "I'm afraid Serana's right. If we wait, they'll only come after us again."

"Very well then," said Master Arngeir, "Then the best I can do is wish you a calm voyage and a swift return."

"Thank you, Master Arngeir," Emily replied, "We'll leave tonight."

The passage to Raven Rock brought them to the ancient city of Windhelm. Unlike other cities in Skyrim the buildings in Windhelm were built of solid stone, grey and cold as the winds that whistled through the cramped alleyways and narrow streets. Snow coated every surface in a permanent blanket during all seasons of the year. Outside the city boats were clustered in their moorings about the piers and even at this late hour they could see dockworkers hefting cargo off the big sailing ships and loading longships with casks and barrels, boxes and large burlap sacks.

The three adventurers stood on the hill overlooking the city. Emily shouldered her bag, turning to her companions.

"So, ready for a maritime voyage?" she asked. They headed off down the hill towards the city. They passed by the stables where the horses lay in their stalls, their breath rising up in clouds of steam. A lone stablehand was shovelling hay into the stall nearest to him. He looked up and nodded to them when he caught sight of them.

The city gates lay at the far end of a stone bridge heavily manned with guards in deep blue livery.

"Halt," said one as they reached the city gates, "What business do you have in the city, outsider?"

"We wish to seek passage to Solstheim," Emily replied.

"You've picked a late hour for travelling," said the guard, folding his arms.

"Nevertheless our coin is good and we will see to it that the captain is well paid," Emily replied.

"Very well, let me see the colour of your coin then, outsider," he said. Begrudgingly Emily opened her coin purse. A few minutes later the guard let them through after pocketing one hundred gold for himself.

"Damn it," Emily muttered as she stowed the drawstring purse back in her bag, "I hope we still have enough for the boat."

"If we don't I'll just have to persuade the good captain," said Serana.

"Really, my Thane, there is no need for violence," Lydia said hastily.

"Who said anything about violence?" Serana replied slyly.

"Lydia, Serana is a master illusionist," Emily explained, "She once stopped a whole mine full of miners noticing us when we were camped out in there for the day." Serana smiled at these words and Lydia, somewhat placated, fell silent.

They found themselves standing in a large stone plaza. Ahead of them lay a large building that, judging by the orange glow in the windows and the sign creaking in the wintery breeze blowing in over the high stone walls, looked to be an inn. On the weather-beaten sign were the words, 'Candlehearth Hall,' below an illustration of a single candle. Lydia pointed them in the direction of a narrow street which led off to their right and they followed it down steep frosty steps and through cramped alleyways where the buildings almost touched over their heads as they leaned over the cobblestones.

"This is the Gray quarter," said Lydia as they walked along, "After the Dark Elves fled from Morrowind they came here and Ulfric Stormcloak decreed they should all live here. I don't envy them."

"Why did-," Emily began but Serana gave her a gentle nudge and whispered, "I'll explain later."

"Why did what?" Lydia asked.

"Uhh.. why did Ulfric send them all to live here?" Emily asked.

"Because Ulfric doesn't trust anyone who isn't a Nord," Lydia explained, "It's for the same reason that the Argonians aren't allowed into the city at all."

"That's awful," said Emily quietly as the street they were in opened out onto another stone plaza. Before them stood another heavy gate similar to the ones that led into the city. This one, mercifully, did not have a guard on duty and they were able to head down to the docks without their purses being further lightened. The docks were lit by lanterns swinging from wooden beams hammered in between the heavy stone blocks and snow swirled about the workers in flurries as they continued loading and unloading the heavy cargo. They spoke to the harbour master, an older man with a knotted beard and he pointed them to the last ship in the berth. It was a sturdy looking vessel with a heavily barnacled hull. It's sails were furled and two men were heaving a heavy wooden crate on board. Another stood at the gangplank, one heavy boot resting on the wooden railings while the other was firmly planted on the pier. He held a book in one hand and a quill in the other and seemed to be checking off items from a list.

"Captain Gjalund?" Emily asked as they reached him.

"Aye," he replied, ticking off one last item before turning to them, closing the book.

"We'd like to book passage to Solstheim," said Emily, removing the drawstring pouch from her bag.

"Put that away, lass," he replied, "I'm not going back to Solstheim anymore. You'll need to look elsewhere."

"How come?" Emily asked.

"Because of those strange people in masks," he replied, "I remember them coming aboard ship and then the next thing I remember I'm here in Windhelm and they're gone."

"So, you brought them from Solstheim?" asked Serana.

"Yes, I..wait, do you mean to tell me you've seen them?" asked the captain.

"Seen, fought with and killed them," Lydia confirmed.

"They targeted us outside of Whiterun," Emily elaborated, "So we'd like to go to Solstheim and find out who sent them and put a stop to them."

"That's all well and good but I have to look out for my own interests, lass," replied the Captain, "It isn't right losing whole days like that. I'm not willing to go through that again."

"Please, it's urgent," said Emily, "If we don't stop them, I don't get the impression they'll just get bored with the idea of hunting me down. They'll try again. Look, what's your usual rate?"

"Two hundred and fifty gold," replied the Captain.

"Right, then I'll double that if you'll take us over," said Emily. The captain mulled it over for a time. Then he sighed.

"Very well, I have to make a living after all. But I'm not hanging around," he said, "When you want to return you'll have to find someone else."

"Very well," said Emily, dropping the pouchful of coins into the captain's outstretched hand. They climbed on board and made for the below decks where the bunks were situated. The boat swayed to and fro as it was released from its moorings and the anchor raised. Captain Gjalund ordered his crew to unfurl the sails once they reached open water.

Emily climbed into the bunk she was sharing with Serana. Serana had a book propped up on her lap and she looked over as Emily lay down next to her.

"Sera," she said quietly.

"Hmm?" Serana replied.

"Remember earlier you stopped me from asking Lydia about the Dunmer?" Emily asked, "Was the reason they left Morrowind something I'd be expected to know about?"

"Yes, I was afraid she might suspect..well, y'know," said Serana.

"Thanks Serana," Emily smiled, nestling in closer to the vampiress, "As you know yourself from when I told you, it's not the easiest thing to explain." Serana put down the book and rolled over to face Emily. She smiled, reaching one hand up to run her fingers through her hair.

"I know," she said.

"So, why did they?" Emily asked.

"Hmm?" Serana replied.

"Why did they leave Morrowind?" Emily elaborated.

"Because of the eruption of Red Mountain, of Mt Vvardenfell," Serana explained, "Long ago a great rock known as Baar Dau hovered above Vivec City, held in place by the demi-god, Vivec. Then during the Oblivion Crisis Vivec vanished."

"Why?" Emily asked.

"Who can truly know the mind of a demi-god," Serana replied, "But shortly after he vanished two Dunmer named Ezhmaar Sul and Vuhon created the Ingenium to keep the rock afloat with the help of Clavicus Vile."

"Who's he?" Emily asked.

"He is the Daedric Prince of Power, Trickery and Pacts," Serana explained.

"Someone who deals in trickery doesn't sound like a good one to ask for help," said Emily.

"And you'd be right," Serana replied, "The Ingenium was powered by his plain of Oblivion but in exchange he asked for souls. At first they used the souls of the dead but as you can imagine they ran out and they started to sacrifice the living."

"Did the people revolt?" Emily asked, "Word must have got out surely."

"No doubt it did but it wasn't the people who revolted," said Serana, "It was Sul. Vuhon tried to sacrifice Sul's wife and he tried to stop him. Their ensuing battle damaged the Ingenium which caused both of them to be sucked into Oblivion. With the Ingenium damaged Baar Dau fell and its impact caused Mt Vvardenfell to erupt."

"So now the Dunmer live in Windhelm," said Emily, "Things don't sound live they've improved much for them."

"Not all of them," Serana replied, "Where we're headed now, there's a large Dunmer settlement there from what I've read. Solstheim used to be under Skyrim's control but it was given to the Dunmer as a place of refuge."

"How long will it take us to get to Solstheim?" Emily asked.

"I don't know," Serana replied, "A day, maybe two."

"I hope we arrive by night," said Emily.

"And if we don't I'm sure I can persuade Gjalund to let us stay below decks," Serana assured her.

"I hope it doesn't come to that," said Emily, "That poor man's already had those cultists mess with his mind and I doubt they were as gentle as you would be." Serana smiled fondly at these words.

As it was Serana's talents in illusion were not needed as the island of Solstheim came into view shortly before midnight on the second night. Serana and Emily were stirred from their bunks by the call of, 'Land, ho!' from on deck. They got out of their bunk, electing to leave the sleeping housecarl where she was as it would be one of the few nocturnal rests she would have the luxury of whilst in their company. They climbed the wooden steps that led up to the deck where they stood, looking out over the sea. On the horizon was the island. Parts of it were covered in sparse pine forests and grey flecks of ash drifted through the air and coated the decks in a fine layer of grime. As they drew nearer they could make out the pillars of basalt that made up much of the coastline. They crossed over to the bow and stared out into the gloom.

The ship made for a coastal town surrounded by high stone walls. Fortifications lined the docks and wooden piers jutted out into the sea. The ship's sails were furled as they guided it toward one of the piers and the ship juddered as it made contact with its moorings.

"Alright, we're here," said Captain Gjalund, "Now, if you could hurry, I don't want to hang around here any longer than I have to."

"I'll go wake Lydia," said Emily to Serana. She disappeared below decks and reappeared a few minutes later alongside the tousle-haired housecarl. They disembarked and the Captain wasted no time in guiding the ship back to open water and out of sight.

"Alright, where should we start?" Lydia asked.

"We should probably speak to who's in charge around here," Serana suggested, "See if the name Miraak means anything to them. Who's in charge around here?"

"I wasn't privy to many political matters in Dragonsreach," said Lydia, "But I believe I heard through some correspondence Proventus Avenicci had with Solstheim that Councilor Morvayn is the Mer we need to speak to."

"Where do you think he is?" asked Emily.

"At home in bed like most decent folk," yawned Lydia.

"We'd better ask the guards," Serana suggested as they left the jetty behind. They passed through a street which led up into Raven Rock proper and found a guard standing by the wall. They wore helms that extended out the back in a conical shape which gave them an almost alien appearance. Their armour was yellow in colour and seemed to be made from a thick leathery material and their faces were obscured.

"Excuse me," said Emily, "Could you tell us where we could find Councilor Morvayn?"

"He lives here, outlander," said the guard, gesturing to the door, "But you've picked a late hour for visiting? What's your business here?"

"We wanted to get information on someone named Miraak," Emily replied.

"Miraak," said the guard thoughtfully, leaning back in a contemplative manner, "Miraak. That name…it sounds familiar somehow. I think I heard it in a dream. I don't get a good feeling from it however. Very well, you may enter." He opened the door and called in to someone sitting in the main hall.

"Girasi," he said, "Show these three strangers into the main hall. They wish to speak to Councilor Morvayn."

"But Edrys," the woman replied, "The Master is in bed, as are the second councillor and his good lady."

"I believe it's important, Girasi, you'll have to wake them," Edrys said, "These strangers mentioned Miraak. That name I told you I heard whispered in my dreams."

"Azura preserve us," Girasi said quietly. Then she ushered them inside and after exchanging a few more words with the guard, closed the door.

"Wait here," she said before disappearing up the stairs.

"Seems this Miraak has got the people here in a stir," Emily said quietly.

"If he speaks to them in dreams," said Lydia, "He could be in league with Vaermina herself."

"You're closer to the truth than you realise," Serana replied, "At least, I think you are. I was thinking about what he told you, Emily." She said these last words meaningfully, "This Miraak, if I'm right, is in league with Hermaeus Mora." Lydia shuddered involuntarily at the use of the name of the Daedric Prince of Fate.

They heard footsteps overheard and a Dunmer with red hair and beard descended the stairs. He wore fine blue robes and greeted each of them in turn.

"I believe you're here about Miraak," he said. Emily nodded. The Dunmer took a seat in a throne at the far end of the room. "I'm afraid there isn't much I can tell you. It's a name I know, if only just, a name spoken in my dreams and in the dreams of many of my subjects. I did, however, receive a vision in one of my recent dreams that may provide you with some clue."

"And what would that be?" Emily asked.

"I saw a temple, it was definitely on Solstheim," the councillor replied, "The ash drifts surrounding it were unmistakable."

"A temple?" said Emily, "You wouldn't happen to know where on Solstheim it would be?"

"I'm afraid not," the councillor replied, "Though it looked to be somewhere high up, on the top of a hill. There is a hill overlooking Raven Rock. You might want to look there."

"Thank you," said Emily.

"What do you intend to do should you find it?" asked the councillor.

"We intend to stop Miraak," Emily replied, "He's been sending his underlings to Skyrim to kill us. I hope that in stopping him we can stop these strange dreams for you and your people."

"I would be grateful of that," he said, "I wish you luck."


	21. Apocrypha

The three adventurers left the city of Raven Rock up, following an ashen trail up alongside a disused mine. Lydia now wore a set of old goggles of Dwemer make she had procured from an ash yam farmer on the outskirts of town and she had a red scarf pulled up over her nose and mouth. Serana and Emily were wrapped up well too for though the ashes would not impede their breathing, it was nonetheless an irritant as it got into their eyes and their mouths when they spoke. The ash was deep in places and it made progress hard going. Serana spotted a cluster of purplish-red leaves covered in spikes similar to an aloe plant and stopped briefly to take a few cuttings.

“What are those?” Emily asked as she stowed the cuttings away.

“Scathecraw,” Serana replied, “I was hoping we could cultivate them back home though I reckon they’ll need an acidic soil to mimic the ash they’ve been growing in here.”

“What’s it good for?” Emily asked. Serana was about to reply when something caught her attention.

“Don’t move,” she said quietly. Lydia halted in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder and the frail wind blew the few strands of her hair poking out from between the swathes of fabric. It stirred the ash up at their feet, blowing the fine particles up around them. Then Emily spotted a patch of the ashen soil which was shifting as though being moved by some kind of subterranean animal. Then a hand emerged and she reached hastily for her dagger. The skin of the hand could hardly be called such for it was grey and cracked and in the cracks lurked a faint orange light.  
The hand braced against the soil. Next to emerge was a head, misshapen and lumpy with eyes like hot coals. It hauled itself from the ash and opened its burning maw, releasing a guttural cry. At this they saw three other patches of ash begin to shift as more of its brethren started to emerge.

Wasting no time the three adventurers sprang upon the creature. It parried their blows with a weapon seemingly melded to its right arm with a red hot glowing centre and keen edges. Emily leapt to one side as another of the monsters emerged close to her feet. She clutched her dagger in both hands, bringing it down upon the ash spawn’s head. The rock crumbled under her blade and the wretched being ceased to move.

The next second she was forced to roll to one side as another of the brutes brought down its keen edged weapon, plunging it into the ash where she had been mere moments before. It tried to pull it free of the ash but an icy shard interrupted this action and it fell face down, crumbling as it fell until it was nought but dust. Emily scrambled to her feet as she, Serana and Lydia faced down the remaining two. The first fell to a blow from Lydia’s greatsword while the second’s head was cleaved in two by another icy shard. It fell in a cloud of dust, back to the earth it had come from.

“What on Nirn was that?” asked Lydia.

“I have no idea,” Serana replied, “Some kind of ghoul perhaps. These wastes are certainly a mournful enough place to house such creatures.” The land seemed to echo this remark for in the silence that followed they could hear strange mournful wails coming up from the coast though Lydia was able to account for these at least. She told them they were netches, jellyfish-like creatures that live by the sea whose leather is used to make various kinds of armour.

They continued their climb up the ashen slopes. Far on the horizon Emily could see the volcano responsible for the land’s current state, still billowing thick black smoke from its crater. She returned her attention to the stop of the slope and caught sight of a stone arch peeking over it.

“Look, up there,” she said, pointing to the arch.

“That must be the temple,” Lydia answered, wiping flecks of ash from her goggles.

As they neared the temple Emily stumbled. When she looked back over her shoulder at what had caused her to trip she let out a gasp. The ground was littered with bones, bones she recognised though she had seen them but once before. They were dragon bones, easily distinguishable by the great curving horns on the skulls and the long fragile-looking wing bones. The skeletons grew more numerous the higher they went until at last they reached a wooden walkway. It was here they picked up on the rhythmic sound of iron striking stone. At the top of the walkway Emily spotted a man chiselling away at the rock.

“Hey, is this the temple?” Emily asked as she reached him. The man did not so much as turn his head or acknowledge her presence in any way and when his lips parted and Emily hoped for some kind of response he only said, “And when the world shall listen.”

“Hello?” said Emily, waving her hand before his face. He did not so much as flinch, “Hello.” She turned to the others. “It’s like he’s in some sort of trance.”

“This woman’s the same,” said Serana who had been trying to gain the attention of another. Then they both stopped as they picked up on another voice. While the voices of those toiling at the rocks sounded sleepy and wavering, this voice was strong.

“Oslaf, please, you must fight against whatever is controlling you!”

They left the wooden walkways behind and made their way down the stone steps into the main courtyard of the temple. They spotted a woman in full Nordic armour tugging at the arm of one of the workers. The man was dressed in heavy furs and did not cease from his toil. Then the woman caught sight of them.

“You, you are not affected as they are,” she said, “Please, you have to help me.”

“Who are you?” Emily asked.

“My name is Frea, my father Storn, our shaman, sent me here to try and free our people who were spirited away from our village,” Frea explained, “Most of the people on Solstheim are like this. In a trance, working on these structures that corrupt the stones. My father says Miraak has returned and he is responsible but that is impossible.”

“It’s Miraak we’re looking for now,” Emily replied, “That’s why we’re here.”

“Then it seems we both have reason to see what lies in this temple,” said Frea, “If you will come with me, we can maybe find out what is controlling my people and put a stop to it. There must be a way in somewhere around here.” As her words died away a rumbling sound came up from the ground below. Emily cocked her head to one side and listened.

“Avrusi, go and check on the prisoners working on the east side,” said one, “I’m going down to Brodir Grove to see if I can expand our workforce.”

“Why is it you always get that priviledge, Ulynna, is it not time I got the chance to spread our great lord’s influence?” another voice asked.

“Quit your complaining or Veloroth will have you cleaning out the gibbets again,” said the first, “Do you really want-?” The voice abruptly halted in its rebuke. Then they saw them exiting from a lower level. They had halted in their approach, flames leaping from their palms, their masks stony and impassive. Without waiting for another word Emily and Serana readied their wards while Lydia and Frea charged into the fray, dodging flames and lightning as they met their new foes. A blow from Lydia sent the first crumpling to the ground and she and Frea rounded on the second. She, too, fell a moment later, an icy shard blossoming from her chest.

They followed the gently sloping stone down and down to an iron door. Frea took an unlit torch from her belt and lit it with a few muttered words before pushing the heavy door open and ushering them all inside.

Inside the ruin was dimly lit. Frea led them through the long stone tunnel, past smaller antechambers which looked to have once been conference rooms and supply stores. Frea stopped at one of these chambers to gather a few dusty old restorative potions still lying on the shelves. The temple was in ruins and piles of rubbles lay here and there, forcing them to pick there way over it to progress. The deeper they went, the greater the state of disrepair.

At last the tunnel opened out into a small room. Frea pointed out a pressure plate to them in the centre of the floor and they sidestepped to avoid it. Beyond the room was another tunnel which brought them deeper into the temple. Through various small chambers and side corridors they trekked, avoiding the numerous traps set in place.

“These traps were set in place by Miraak,” Frea explained, “When he was last here, he was trying to take power while protecting himself in the process. No doubt his followers have been keeping them maintained now that they have taken up residence.”

“So, this place was empty for a long time before that then?” Emily asked.

“Indeed,” Frea replied, “You see, the reason I did not believe my father at first was because Miraak lived during the time when dragons ruled Nirn. The temple stood empty from his disappearance until just under a year ago. That’s when his followers started to move in.”

They came to an iron portcullis and Emily spotted a pull chain off to the right. Upon pulling it the portcullis opened, allowing them through. They found themselves in a vast multileveled chamber. Iron gibbets hung from the ceiling, bones littering the bottom of the cages. Before them was a sacrificial altar where various instruments of torture lay scattered. After inspecting the upper levels they began to make their way down the stairs in the centre. At the bottom of the final set of stairs lay another sacrificial altar. This one was covered in congealed blood that looked as though it had stained the surface for centuries.

“Find them,” a voice echoed from further along the hallway. They stopped in their tracks and at the far end of the corridor ahead where it sloped downwards she saw the searching lights of at least three mages. Emily took a step back and her gaze fell upon a lantern hanging above the corridor. She took her bow from her back and nocked an arrow. As the three cultists crowded into the corridor she loosed her arrow. At the same time as it sang from her bow one of the cultists loosed a bolt of fire which surged toward them. Emily cast her bow to one side, hurriedly conjuring a ward. The lantern fell from the ceiling and crashed down upon the cultists, exploding on impact and in the same instance the firebolt struck the unprepared ward. It shattered and Emily was thrown back against the wall from the force of the blast. She coughed out the dust of the old temple as it settled around her and looked dazedly along the corridor where the cultists had once stood.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked as she knelt down next to her.

“I think so,” Emily replied, putting a hand to her head where there was an egg-sized bump.

“Maybe get someone to cover you next time you want to pull a stunt like that,” she said fondly before helping Emily to her feet.

Down the steps the cultists had come up by they went and this brought them to the temple catacombs.

“You think his past followers were buried here?” Emily asked as she looked around at the crumbling alcoves where the dead rested.

“Either that or these are the bodies of those he deemed to be traitors,” Frea replied, “Forced to serve him in death as punishment for their treachery. From what I’ve read about him that doesn’t sound hard to believe.”

The catacombs were in an even worse state of repair and whole sections had fallen in, victims of subsidence and the ages. Several times they feared they had come to an impassible area and it was only when they spotted a path half hidden in the gloom of the shadows that they were able to continue on.

At the far end of the catacombs they came to a long corridor. It resembled, in architecture, the hall of stories they had seen in Bleak Falls Barrow but unlike the barrow it was home to innumerable traps. Axes swung out across the tunnel from their recesses and at the far end of the room stood an iron portcullis blocking their way. A lever at the side of the door seemed the likeliest candidate for allowing them passage.

“Damn,” said Emily, “Mission Impossible hasn’t got anything on this.”

“I’ll take this one, Em,” said Serana, “You just look after that head of yours.”

“And you just be careful of yours,” said Emily, eyeing the swinging blades. She watched as Serana ran towards the swinging axes, one moment darting forward and the next standing her ground, waiting for an opening. From side to side she ran and at the last axe she dropped and rolled, fetching up next to the lever. She pulled it and with a grin of triumph aimed at her companion, she saw the axes cease their swinging and the portcullis at her side grind open. Emily, Lydia and Frea joined her at the open portcullis and they continued on.

Each new room they came to came with its own puzzles to solve and its own enemies to fight. They faced cultists of Miraak and draugr in equal measure. Emily wondered at how deep below Nirn’s surface they must be by now and why any temple had to be so truly massive. At last they came to a section that Frea reckoned to be the temple’s inner sanctum. Beyond the doors they were met by a gruesome sight. Before them lay a long stone walkway, surrounded on all sides by metal bars. Skewered on these bars were skeletons in various grotesque poses. Some had the bars thrust between their open jaws while others looked as though their arms and legs had been skewered onto the them. Not wishing to hang around they hurried onward from the grisly spectacle.

Beyond this point the ruins became a mixture between the traditional Nordic architecture and natural caverns. Water could be heard dripping in the darkest recesses and braziers burned dully on the platforms. Emily stopped as a faint sound reached her ears.

“Do you hear that?” she asked of her companions. They all shook their heads. As they went deeper she recognized the sound. It was the chanting that accompanied a word wall. They found the source in the next room. There was a word wall surrounded by iron sarcophagi.

“I wonder what kind of word would be hidden down here,” Lydia mused.

“Word?” said Frea, looking at the vampiress and the housecarl.

“My companion here can use these word walls to learn words of power and unlock their meaning,” Serana explained.

“Do you mean to say she’s-?” asked Frea. Serana nodded.

Emily strode up to the word wall and stood before it. She felt the meaning flow from the wall to her and for a moment she felt as though she heard a distant roar. It grew in intensity until it shook the room around them. Small rocks fell from the ceiling. A small pebble landed on the top of her head and she looked up. It was then she realised it was not a roar but a rumble and as it began to recede several of the sarcophagi fell open. Some of the draugr fell prone to the stone, unmoving, while others stepped forth, wielding ancient Nordic weaponry. Their leader was a hulking great draugr who stepped from the centremost sarcophagus. She wielded a battleaxe and wore a tall horned helmet. The four adventurers threw themselves into the fray. All in all there were five of them. Emily and Serana tackled the leader and one who was evidently her second-in-command while Frea and Lydia turned on two of the others. The fifth draugr hung back, loosing icy spikes from its palms, turning the field of battle to chaos.

Emily dodged to one side as the draugr deathlord brought down her battleaxe, missing her by mere inches. She rolled and brought up her dagger to meet with the draugr, tearing a gash across undead flesh. Serana parried the blow of the second and loosed a bolt of lightning which rippled across the raddled armour. The draugr recoiled with a snarl and Serana took the opportunity to plunge her dagger into his neck. The light died in his eyes and he fell forward onto the stonework. Serana rushed to help Lydia and Frea as Lydia ran another of the draugr through with her greatsword. As the combined efforts of Frea, Lydia and Serana brought down the lesser draugr, Emily closed with their leader.

ZUN HAAL VIIK

The blue energy ripped the battleaxe from the draugr’s grasp. It skittered into the dark and Emily seized the chance to drive her dagger home. The draugr general collapsed to the stonework, the blue light in her eyes fading and dying.

For a moment they stood, looking down at the prone forms. Emily stooped and picked up a key from the ground next to the fallen general. They soon found that the key fit the door revealed when the ancient Nordic general stepped from her sarcophagus.

Through two sets of iron doors they went until they came to a large room. Here they were confronted by grotesque stone statues leaning out from the walls. They had large bug eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth.

“What are those things?” Emily asked.

“Lurkers,” Serana replied, “They’re Hermaeus Mora’s minions. They serve him in his realm of Oblivion, acting as his military forces.”

“I hope we don’t meet any of them down here,” said Emily.

“Unlikely,” Serana replied, “They don’t often leave Apocrypha, his realm of Oblivion.”

For a time they wandered around in circles. There seemed to be no way forward.

“There has to be a secret passageway around here somewhere,” said Frea, “I can’t believe this could possibly be all those cultists and draugr were guarding.” The main area looked to be a dining area of sorts while the back rooms looked to have been used as a kitchen and for storage. If these rooms and this temple as a whole were anything to go by, Emily surmised that Miraak’s army of followers must have once been massive.

At last Frea found what they were looking for, a small pull handle set into one of the alcoves overlooking the dining room. When pulled this opened a concealed tunnel which they made for, trekking along the cramped tunnel. Here and there the stone was held up by wooden beams. The weight of the stone pressing down on them made them uneasy and so they were glad when the tunnel opened out onto a small chamber with an iron grid at its heart. Through this they could see the floor below.

“How much deeper do you think we have to go?” Emily asked Lydia.

“We must be deeper than even most of the ancient Dwemer cities go by now, my Thane,” Lydia replied.

In the adjoining room they found another grating. This one could be opened by use of a pull switch and allowed them to make their way down yet again. And still further the stairs and corridors led them down, fires burning in the braziers at the base of the spiral stairs. They passed several shaped into the forms of lurkers, the flames burning in their open mouths.

They came to what looked to be a dead end but a pullchain caused the once inert stone to move downwards, exposing another set of stairs. Emily felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as they took their first steps down that forbidding stairway. Something lay ahead. She wasn’t sure what but it filled her with a deep sense of unease. She felt Serana’s hand take hers and her grip told her she felt something similar.

Beyond the stairs they came to a large chamber decorated with the bones of dragons arranged into intricate shapes. From what little Emily had gleaned about dragon’s and the worship surrounding them in days gone by this act would have been seen by the dragon cult as one of the utmost blasphemy. The chamber was choked with freshly stirred dust and Emily pulled the fabric of her hooded jacket up around her nose and mouth.

At the far end lay a pull chain which revealed a hidden passageway. This stone tunnel was longer than any of the others previous and brought them still deeper. At times it was so steep it was all they could do to stop themselves from skidding down to its end.

At last it did come to an end and what lay before them looked like some kind of ceremonial reading room. A black book lay on a pedestal. It was thicker than any book Emily had ever seen and at the sight of it that prickling sensation on the back of her neck returned. She rubbed absentmindedly at her neck as the four of them looked upon the book.

“Is that it?” asked Lydia, “An old book.”

“That’s no ordinary book,” Frea replied, “I’m not familiar with the power it holds but it is great. Greater than all of us put together.” Lydia folded her arms sceptically but said no more.

“It’s not of this plane,” said Serana.

“What should we do?” Emily asked, meeting Serana’s gaze.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “But whatever we do, we should be cautious.”  
Emily took a hesitant step forward. The fire flickered on the wispy looking meshwork that made up much of the walls and floor. It flickered on the slick black surface of the book, glistening like wet ink. Serana looked like she wanted to draw her back but seemed unable to move. Frea and Lydia, likewise were frozen.

“Should we open it?” Emily asked, looking over her shoulder.

“It may be the only way of discovering if this is truly the source of Miraak’s power,” said Frea. Emily gulped and turned back to the book. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached forward. Her fingers grazed the surface of the book’s cover. Though it glistened like it was wet the book was as dry as any of mortal make. But unlike mortal books this one pulsed with energy though it did not actually moved. It was something that could be felt more than seen. She pulled back the cover, shielding her gaze from whatever she expected to ooze forth. Cautiously she peered over the arm shielding her. The book lay inert on the table as might be expected of any book. But then green light spilled forth. Emily watched, transfixed, as the book levitated above the lectern on which it had been placed. She did not seem to have the presence of mind to run. All thoughts were numbed by the green light filling her eyes and ears. Then slick black shapes emerged. They wound and writhed in the air like the hypnotizing dance of the snake. Then they wrapped themselves around Emily, around her arms, draping across her shoulders and around her waist. Only then did she get the urge to run but by then it was too late. Her vision went black and she felt as though she was falling through a sticky black void. The world around her bubbled and oozed.

She felt her feet touch solid ground and the oozing mass around her begin to recede. But still she could not see.

“Welcome, mortal,” said a slow oozing voice she recognized. Slowly her vision cleared and she found herself standing on a floating island high above a sea of swirling blackness. The sky above her was dominated by a colossal tower-like structure which looked like it was built from black slabs. Beyond it the sky itself was a sickly green, swirling with wispy vapours culminating in black voids from which slick black tentacles stretched. Hovering before her was the bilious black form of Hermaeus Mora, eyes blossoming on every inch of his countenance and tentacles swaying around him slowly and ponderously.

“Hermaeus Mora,” Emily replied.

“My follower’s children found you, just as I said they would,” oozed the Daedric Prince of Fate, “And now you are here, at the seat of Miraak’s power.”

“Why have you brought me here?” Emily asked.

“I?” said Hermaeus Mora, “You are mistaken Dragonborn. It was not I who brought you here. You did that when you opened my book.”

“I didn’t know it would bring me here,” Emily protested.

“It alone did not,” Hermaeus Mora responded, “You wanted answers. You wanted to know more of Miraak. So your wish to learn brought you here.”

“How do I get back?” Emily asked, looking around.

“All in good time, immortal,” Hermaeus Mora bubbled, “All in good time. You have come this far, your journey has brought you here to my realm so I believe it is fitting you should be given another hint, another clue in your search for Miraak.” Emily waited as another eye blossomed, regarding her before disappearing.

“He has travelled far, to a place beyond even my far reaching grasp, familiar to you but not to your friends,” Hermaeus Mora continued. Here his voice changed from its usual calm oozing to an angry bubbling, “I want you to go there and I want you to destroy him. He seeks to return to Tamriel by means of this place as a waypoint. He has grown treacherous. I want him crushed, disintegrated.” Emily gulped.

“Will you go there and complete this task in my name, mortal?” asked the demon of fate.

“How can I if I don’t even know what it’s called?” Emily asked.

“You will in time, immortal, simply heed my words and you will know in time,” said Hermaeus Mora, “My seekers, come, send the Dragonborn back to her realm.”

Then the air around Emily shook and Emily felt the presence of several creatures on all sides. Although she could not see them she felt their warm breath on her. Then all turned a sickly green as she was buffeted on all sides. This green turned to white and she found herself rising up from the ground. She closed her eyes, shielding her face with her arms but the white light persisted. It cleared only when her boots touched solid ground and she slowly opened her eyes. She stood frozen for a moment, looking at her friends who stared back at her as though she were a ghost. Slowly she brought her arms back down by her sides. Serana was the first to move.

“What happened?” she asked, “You vanished when that book started to glow. I knew it was evil. I knew.”

“It took me to Oblivion, to Aprocrypha,” Emily said hoarsely, “It must have. Hermaeus Mora was there.” Frea clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening.

“He told me Miraak had gone beyond his reach,” she said, trying to remember all he had said, “He wants me to destroy him. He means to return to Tamriel from where he is, using it as a waypoint.”

“This is grave news indeed,” said Frea, “We need to talk to my father. He’s still at the village, helping protect those who remain unaffected by Miraak’s control. Come on, we haven’t much time.” Then she hurried on ahead through another tunnel which led away from the reading room. Lydia followed her, carrying a torch.

“Sera, he asked me to serve him,” she said, “I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no. I was afraid if I refused he wouldn’t send me back. But Sera, I don’t want to serve him, I don’t.”

Serana put her arms around her as she shuddered.

“Nothing on Nirn can make you,” she said, pushing a strand of hair from her face, “Not him, not anyone if you truly don’t want to. We’ll get through this, together, I promise.”


	22. Earth and Stones

The tunnel by which Lydia and Frea had left brought them to an exit set into the side of a cliff face, next to a surging waterfall. Emily could hear it the moment they set foot outside. It was a welcoming sound, the sound of life.

They accompanied Frea along a track barely discernible among the snow drifts. She led them past sparse shrubbery and broken rocks, over a wooden bridge to a point in the path. From here they could see a small cluster of houses nestled into the side of the hill. A strange silvery haze surrounded the buildings and the sight of this haze seemed to give Frea some comfort.

"You see that silver mist?" she asked, pointing to the village, "That is a barrier my father erected to protect the remaining villagers. The fact that it still stands is a good sign. It hopefully means we aren't too late." With that she hurried onward. The skies above had cleared and the twin moons shone bright. They shone on the roofs of the buildings, on the fire pit and butcher's tent at its centre and on the empty forge.

"Father," cried Frea as she passed through the barrier, "Father, I have returned. I have brought with me some friends who I hope can put a stop to Miraak." Three villagers knelt together, hands clasped. They were dressed in heavy furs. One, a man with greying hair and wizened features, looked up when he heard Frea speak.

"What news do you bring, how can these strangers help?" he asked. He spoke with effort, dividing his attention between his daughter's words and maintaining the barrier.

"This one here," Frea gestured to Emily, "She is Dragonborn. She has seen things. She went to another place and learnt that Miraak is indeed behind all this. Emily, tell him what you learnt."

"I spoke to Hermaeus Mora," said Emily, "He told me Miraak has gone beyond his reach and from where he is now, he seeks to use it as a waypoint to return to Tamriel."

"Did he tell you where this other place was?" asked Storn gravely. Emily shook her head.

"Not really," she replied, "At least, not directly. He only gave me a cryptic clue, no more."

"How did you travel to this other place?" asked Storn, "I assume you speak of Apocrypha. Herma Mora's realm of Oblivion."

"This book brought me there," Emily replied, showing Storn the black book.

"This thing shivers with forbidden magic," he said gravely, "I would ask you, for your own sake, your own safety, that you do not use it again."

"Believe me, I have no intention," Emily replied with a shudder.

"You've journeyed far, I can see it in your eyes," said Storn, "Frea, take them inside while we decide what to do next."

Emily, Serana and Lydia followed Frea into a hut on the edge of the village. As soon as they were within the four walls Frea lit a few of the lanterns on the bench and removed her travelling cloak.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," she said.

Lydia took a seat by the fire, eager to thaw out her frozen fingers while Serana and Emily sat together on one of the benches.

"Sera, there's something I didn't mention while we were back in the temple," she said quietly.

"What is it?" Serana asked gently.

"That cryptic clue he gave me," Emily replied, "He said this is a place familiar to me but unfamiliar to you and the others. I think …I think I have an idea where that is."

"Earth?" Serana asked after a moment's thought. Emily nodded.

"That's why I had to keep quiet back there," she replied.

"I think you'll have to tell them eventually," said Serana calmly, "If that really is where Miraak has gone then they'll need to know."

"And if he has, how on earth are we meant to go there?" asked Emily, "Come to that, how did he manage it?"

"Magic, certainly," Serana replied, "And given his location, he would have access to all the forbidden magic in this world and the next."

"You think he learnt the secrets in Apocrypha?" Emily asked.

"Where else?" Serana replied.

"There's no way I'm going back there though," said Emily.

"And I would never make you," Serana replied, meeting her gaze, "You know that." Emily smiled, finding Serana's hand and giving her fingers a squeeze.

Frea had departed for her room which lay at the end of the house.

"We'll tell them in the morning, Em," said Serana. Emily nodded. While Lydia had nodded off by the fire her thoughts kept her from sleep. She kept thinking of that dreaded place, of that writhing mass of eyes and tentacles and of Miraak who appeared to her in her thoughts as a faceless entity wreathed in darkness and with most evil eyes.

And so this way she passed the remainder of the night. She must have fallen asleep at some point for she was awoken by Frea entering the room and putting another log upon the fire. Serana stirred as Emily sat up. Frea hung a pot of water by the fire to boil before heading back to her room. Emily stretched, yawning. She stopped when the door opened and Storn came in. He looked worn out, sitting down heavily by the fire.

"Are you alright?" Emily asked.

"Maintaining that barrier takes it's toll," the old man said gravely.

"Who's maintaining it now?" Serana asked.

"Deor, Fanari and Oslaf have taken over," Storn replied.

"Storn," said Emily. The old man turned to face her. Emily took a deep breath before speaking. "We think we've figured out where Miraak is. There was something I didn't mention last night. A clue Hermaeus Mora gave me."

"And what was that?" asked Storn, frowning.

"He said it was a place I was familiar with but my companions are not," Emily replied, "He went to Earth."

"To Earth?" Storn replied, his brow furrowing, "And where is that? Is it a lost place like Akavir?" Emily shook her head.

"Lost to me perhaps," she said, "It's…well…it's another world. It's far from here, so far I can't even begin to imagine."

"And if that is so," Storn replied, more than a hint of scepticism evident in his voice, "Then how did you come to Nirn?"

"A portal," Emily replied, "Near the town of Dragon Bridge in Haafingar."

"Is that portal not still functional?" Storn asked. Emily shook her head.

"No," she replied, "It stopped working the moment I stepped through. I tried several times get back but it was no use."

"You are aware of how unlikely this all sounds," said Storn, "Aren't you? Do you have any proof?" Emily nodded and removed a small device from her pack, switching it on.

"This is my phone," she said, "It has pictures from earth, music and videos. Those are moving pictures." She showed several of the pictures to Storn who seemed satisfied. The battery had dwindled to ten percent. She hastily switched it off, wishing to conserve what little power remained.

"Is technology like this prevalent in your world?" Storn asked.

"Yes," Emily replied.

"Then it is crucial that you return there and stop Miraak before he can use it," said Storn gravely.

"I highly doubt he could do much with a picture creator and music player," said Serana.

"But if this device here is indicative of Earth's technology, there may be more than that at his disposal, is that so?" Storn asked, turning from Serana to Emily.

"I'm afraid so," she replied, "He would have access to weapons, communications devices and goodness knows what else. But I can't travel back there. I don't have that kind of power."

"Actually, I believe you do, but you'll need help," Storn said, getting up from his place by the fire, "Our souls never forget the place of our birth no matter how far they stray from it. Essentially you are the key to the door that will lead you home. We can create the door."

"But father," said Frea who had heard their conversation from the doorway, "Our people could not maintain a portal of that magnitude for more than a few hours, if that. This barrier has been too draining."

"You are right, of course," said Storn, "But I may know where we can go for help. Are you familiar with the College of Winterhold?" Emily nodded.

"I will go to Winterhold with you," said Storn, "But first, first you must bring your power level with Miraak's. You are Dragonborn as I understand it. As is Miraak according to the old legends."

"He's Dragonborn too?" said Emily. Storn nodded.

"Long ago he learnt a word of great power over at Saering's Watch," Storn continued, "I want you to go there and learn what he learned. Then you will have a chance at defeating him."

"We'll go tonight," Emily replied, "Where is that?" Storn led her over to a faded old map that hung on the wall and pointed to a location on the Northern side of the island.

"There," he said, "But you must be wary. Even out here news of the dragons' return reached us. Long ago they used to gather there. I would not be surprised if one has returned there now."

"You should follow the river upstream," said Frea, "That is the quickest way to Saering's Watch. But you should be careful once you reach Benkongerike."

"What's at Benkongerike?" Emily asked.

"It is a Riekling village, little blue goblin-like creatures," Frea explained, "They do not take kindly to strangers."

"Thanks, we'll bear that in mind," said Serana.

As night fell Serana, Lydia and Emily left the Skaal village. Frea remained behind to assist Storn in maintaining the barrier. They retraced their steps back along the path they had come to the village by from Miraak's temple until they saw the river. From here they followed it up stream. It ran shallow in most places, tumbling over rocks and pebbles. It was fed by numerous waterfalls which plunged down from the mountains. Snow and ash caked trees lined the barely discernible path.

"Have you ever seen a Riekling?" Emily asked Lydia as they left the river and trekked north up into the mountains.

"No, but I've seen goblins," Lydia replied, "Vicious little creatures. Not a big threat on their own but they often live in great numbers. It's easy for even a seasoned warrior to become overwhelmed. During my time with the companions we were sent to rout out a nest of them in the Jerall Mountains."

"What happened?" Emily asked.

"I was sent with three of my shield brothers," Lydia replied, "We tracked their nest up into the highest reaches. But just as we'd been tracking them, some had got onto our trail. We found an ambush waiting for us. Hosnar was killed before we had a chance to launch an attack. You couldn't see him for the spears sticking out of him." Emily and Serana listened as she continued.

"But then Leifnarr discovered the trick, the goblins feared fire," Lydia continued, "We still had some rags with us that we'd used for making torches. Part of the path up the mountains took us through a mountain tunnel. We bundled up the rags, set them ablaze and hurled them at our pursuers."

"And what happened then?" Emily asked, "Do you think these rieklings will fear it the same?"

"I hope so," Lydia replied, "When the burning rags were hurled into their numbers they scattered. We used that opportunity to start taking down as many as we could. Once their numbers dwindled they lost their courage and ran."

Ahead of them Emily caught sight of a large stone totem of an eagle towering up from its stony nest at the side of the path. The path itself was lined with the traditional Nordic trilithons common in ancient Nordic architecture and various other ancient remnants were scattered among the rocks and across the snowy ground. Emily hesitated as a flicker of movement caught her eye. She whirled around and was just in time to spot a small bow-legged creature dart behind one of the pillars.

"We're not alone," she said quietly. The next second she was forced to leap to one side as a spear struck the earth at her feet. Serana conjured an icy spike on her palm and hurled it into the darkness. It struck something and there was a muffled gurgle.

"Good shot," said Lydia.

"I wouldn't count this as a victory just yet," Serana replied, eyeing the shadows. In answer another three spears were hurled from the shadows. Emily grabbed an old iron kite shield that lay between two boulders and pulled Serana behind it. Lydia had taken some rags from her pack and was busily dowsing them in oil. She then lit them with the torch she had been carrying and hurled the burning rags into the shadows. Jabberings and snarls echoed up from the gloom as several figures showed up silhouetted against the flames. Serana and Emily seized the opportunity to rain down arrows and ice shards upon their assailants. Lydia took the shield and surged into the gloom, hurling insults and burning rags.

At last the jabbering cries ceased and Lydia rejoined them. She was bleeding from a cut on her shoulder but smiled nonetheless.

"Come on," she said, "I don't think they'll be giving us anymore trouble."

They passed through a stone archway which led down a slope away from Benkongerike and the Riekling village. This brought them out onto open ground and afforded them a view of the Sea of Ghosts. Emily looked around and her gaze came to rest on a set of steps camouflaged in among the rocks. They were cracked and worn. As she looked she saw that what she had taken to be a stone cliffside were in fact more ruins, so perfectly did they blend in with the surrounding rocks.

"That must be Saering's Watch," she said, gesturing to the ruins. They headed for the stone steps and began to climb them. Serana paused momentarily on the bottom step, staring hard at the iron sarcophagus standing against one of the walls.

"Keep your weapons ready," she said quietly to Lydia and Emily, "There are draugr here. They don't seem to know we're here yet but-." She left the sentence hanging and Emily nodded. She pulled her dagger from its scabbard and continued on up the stairs. The ruins took them on a winding path that led ever upwards. In each alcove they came to stood another iron sarcophagus and Lydia subconsciously held her breath, eyeing them as they passed by. Emily heard the chanting before she saw the word wall, situated at the summit of Saering's Watch. She climbed on ahead of the others, drawn to the steady chant. A wind ruffled her hair and whistled in her ears. As she reached the top she stopped, gazing at the word wall. The world around her faded away until all she could see was the single glowing set of runes. She walked slowly towards it, stretching out a hand to it. The wind gathered around her and a flow of understanding flowed from the glowing stone to her.

As the world came back into focus around her a guttural growl met her ears. Emily whirled around, dagger raised and found herself staring down a draugr in a horned helm, wielding a greatsword. Decayed lips curled in a thin smile as the draugr raised its greatsword level with her. Emily's eyes darted left and right as sounds like gunshots echoed up from the ruins below, a sign that the other draugr were waking one by one. As she conjured lightning on her palm another sound blew in from over the sea. It caused the draugr before her to raise its gaze heavenward.

"Dii Thur," came its halting speech. Then it turned its gaze back on the Earthling, "Zu'u fen ofan dii Thur hin sil." As the skies above echoed with another roar the draugr raised its greatsword above its head. Emily dodged behind the sacrificial altar the draugr had risen from, loosing lightning from her palms. Then the earth shuddered as a ragged shape soared overhead. Below she could hear the clamour of battle as Lydia and Serana battled the undead hordes. Emily dodged another blow from the greatsword. It struck the stonework and she seized the opportunity to launch a kick at the draugr. It stumbled back against the low stone wall. Another kick sent it tumbling back over the edge and out of sight. Emily darted for the stairs and ran down them two at a time. She came upon Lydia fending off two draugr. One wielded ice magic on its palms while the other carried a war axe. Emily conjured a ward as the wight loosed an icy blast. It struck the ward which held firm. Lydia seized this opportunity to plunge her greatsword into the wight's chest. It shuddered and slumped backwards off the blade. As it did so Emily rounded on the axe wielder but before she could deliver the killing blow a roar shook the stone pillars as the dragon swooped overhead, its maw loosing great blasts of frost. It landed heavily outside the ruins where it bellowed its challenge to the three adventurers.

Lydia plunged her greatsword into the axe wielder's chest while Emily vaulted over the wall to the level below. Here she joined with Serana as she faced down the dragon and the remaining two draugr.

"Nos, dii aarre," roared the dragon. At these words the two draugr charged the two adventurers, weapons raised. Emily closed with the first, a battle-axe wielder while Serana charged the second, loosing volleys of icy shards. The dragon watched the battle for a moment before loosing another blast of frost that enveloped the combatants. In the swirling whiteness Emily struck out blindly. A guttural laugh told her she had missed and she brought a hand up to shield her eyes. Then a savage scaly head filled with row upon row of savage teeth ripped through the swirling flakes and she was shoved to one side. She and Serana rolled over in the crisp snow. They quickly regained their feet and rounded on the draugr nearest to them. Its armour was coated with frost and icicles hung from its beard. It swung the battle-axe and Emily dodged back, loosing another bolt of lightning. This connected with the metal blade and surged along it to the wielder who cried out in a mixture of pain and fury. Serana wasted no time in driving her blade home. The dragon, meanwhile, had taken to the skies once more.

Lydia ran down the steps to where her two Thanes were fighting off the second draugr. An icy shard from Serana struck it in the chest and it reeled back from the blow. Lydia took the opportunity to run the undead warrior through and its piercing blue gaze faded and dimmed as the last of its enchanted lifeforce left it. A bellow of fury echoed down from above and the dragon landed heavily in the midst of them.

Now the three warriors converged upon the scaly beast. It struck out at them when they came near with tooth, talon and tail. Emily was thrown on her back as one great wing tipped with razor claws lashed out at her. She quickly recovered and began jabbing furiously at its hindlegs. Then she darted beneath its scaly body, aiming for the areas where its flesh was softest. It reared back as Serana aimed a blow at one of its reptilian eyes. Lydia had fallen back and now pelted it with a hail of arrows. It rounded upon them one after the other but its movements were slow and cumbersome.

At last, Serana's blow struck true deep in its throat and it writhed, a gurgling roar escaping it. In one mighty effort it tossed its scaly head, knocking the vampiress to the ground but its strength was swiftly leaving it. Emily ran at it, plunging her dagger up into the roof of its mouth. Its claws raked the earth but they found little purchase. Then it slumped to one side and its thick tar-like blood pooled in the snow.

Emily helped Serana to her feet and Emily felt that now familiar power flowing from the burning body of the dragon to her. A single word came to her, its meaning unlocked as the soul of the dragon filled her. Gol.

They stood, looking upon the dragon and the bodies of its followers which lay scattered about. Now that the bellowing roars and guttural cries of battle had been silenced the world around them seemed muted. Only the sound of the last smouldering embers creeping up over the dragon's bones could be heard. Emily seemed unable to speak for a moment. She looked from Serana to Lydia. A most uncanny feeling had a hold of her, the feeling that though the battle was won they were not the only ones standing on the battlefield. Something was watching. Something was speaking.

"My master wishes to speak with you," came a dry whispering voice that sounded like rustling pages. Emily looked to Serana and Lydia. Their expressions told her they too had heard it and the three of them looked around but saw nothing.

"Who's there? Who are you?" Emily asked warily. She looked around once more, "Where are you?" There was a pause.

"You cannot see me," came the voice again, "How unfortunate." The air rippled before her and out of it blossomed a ragged figure swathed in rags which gave it the appearance of a withered decaying flower. Tentacles protruded from the centre of the rags and Emily saw two pairs of shrivelled arms beneath the folds of mouldering fabric.

"Is that better?" it whispered. Emily did not trust herself to speak and merely nodded.  
"My master comes with a message and a boon for thee," it continued. Beyond its ragged form a now familiar shape was emerging, oozing into existence.

"I believe you have solved my riddle," Hermaeus Mora bubbled, "Earth. Your home. Miraak has indeed gone there. I applaud your sagacity, Dragonborn."

"What do you want of me?" Emily asked warily. The Daedric Prince of Knowledge regarded her a moment before replying.

"You already know the answer to that," he said slowly, "But perhaps you mean to ask what my reason for seeking you out now is." Emily nodded. "That is a simple question and requires only a simple answer. You have learnt the first word that Miraak used to seize power but, as you know, all shouts contain three words. I have come to grant you the other two words in return for the death of Miraak."

Before Emily could say anything a great power bowed her and she sank down. Words burned, carving themselves into her mind and the twisted energies brought with them the meaning of the two remaining words of power. Sweat beaded on her brow as her eyes reflexively squeezed themselves shut. Her throat felt like it was burning as the energies slowly began to recede. Then she felt hands upon her and looked up to see that Hermaeus Mora had gone.

"Are you alright?" Serana asked concernedly. Emily could only nod as Lydia and Serana helped her back to her feet. "Come on, we should get back to Storn."

Much of the remainder of the night saw them trekking back to the Skaal village. For several minutes after leaving Saering's Watch Emily spoke little. She kept close to Serana and the two held a companionable silence. But by the time the village lights came into view she had regained the use of her tongue. They found Storn in his hut deep in conversation with Frea. He looked up when he heard them approach.

"You have the words," he said. It was not a question. How he knew, none of the three adventurers could say. Emily nodded.

"All three of them," she replied, "What must we do now?" Storn knelt down by the fire and tossed on another couple of logs.

"Did Frea explain to you the predicament our people are in? How Miraak has a hold of them?" he asked.

"Yes, we saw some of them at his temple," Emily replied, "They were in a trance."

"Correct," Storn said gravely, "Do you recall a large carved stone at the centre of the temple?" Emily shook her head.

"That stone is the tree stone, one of the six all-maker stones found throughout Solstheim," Storn explained, "It was there long before that accursed temple that now surrounds it. I do not believe they chose to build there by chance. Each of the other five stones now have similar smaller structures built around them, getting bigger with each passing day as he grows his influence."

"But why?" Emily asked, "If he's all the way on Earth, why does he want to build around those stones?"

"The All-Maker stones hold great power, perhaps enough to act as a wayshrine," Storn replied, "A wayshrine powerful enough to transcend Mundus itself. If he connects the stones by way of these strange structures he could use the combined energy to channel such a portal, allowing him to return to Mundus. Just as we will create a similar portal using the college towers in Winterhold. I will explain more when we get there."

"And how can we stop him?" Emily asked, "While we're off to Winterhold he could get that portal of his up and running and return to Mundus."

"Before we depart, I must ask one final favour of you," said Storn, "Using the first of the words you learnt at Saering's Watch you have the power to cleanse the All-Maker stones. The tree stone is beyond our reach, it is too far gone. But the other five can still be saved. If you can cleanse them, Miraak's wayshrine building will be delayed, allowing us the time we need."

"We'll leave tonight," said Emily.

"Good, All-Maker be with you," Storn replied, "I will await your return."


	23. Cleansing the Stones

"The way I see it," said Serana as they sat by the fire in the shaman's hut, "Our best bet is to make a circuit of the island. Most of these stones seem fairly close to the coast." They were studying a map Storn had lent them.

"It's like collecting the words of power all over again," Emily replied, "Let's just hope we don't have to fight any more dragons."

"Emily," said Serana. Emily looked up from the map. "How do you feel…you know, about going back to Earth, about the portal? Are you…excited?"

"To tell you the truth, Sera, I don't really feel anything just yet," Emily replied, "For so long I'd given up on the idea of ever going home…I don't know what to feel." She looked back down at the map. "Really, I'm still not holding my breath over this portal. Storn makes it sound possible but…"

"When we set out to claim the bow, I'll admit, all that eventually came to pass, it didn't seem possible to me either," Serana replied.

"You'd never have known that to talk to you," Emily smiled, "You were always able to find a reason to keep going. I always admired that you know. Me? I found the best way was just to forget."

"Forget what?" Serana asked.

"Everything about Earth," Emily replied. She chuckled. "Not literally of course. Just…forget about ever going back there. Accept my new life here." Serana looked down at her hands.

"Are you happy here?" she asked. The next second she seemed to regret her words and looked away.

"Of course I am," Emily replied, shifting so she was kneeling in front of Serana. She took her hands in hers, "I've had the best adventures of my life with you. Adventures other earthlings could only dream of." Serana met her gaze and allowed herself a slight smile. "I will never regret what happened when I stepped through that portal."

As night fell Serana, Emily and Lydia left the shaman's hut. The first stone to visit was the Wind stone. It was but a short trek from the village and Frea had told her that many of the villagers laboured there and had done so for over a week. The wind stone was located down a short slope and stood on a snowy overlook, looking out over the sea of Ghosts. Emily saw the sickly green pillar of light rising up into the sky before she saw the stone itself. Carried on the wind words were whispered, the same words she had heard at the Temple of Miraak. They crept closer, keeping to what little underbrush there was. The snow crunched under their boots.

"Look down there," Lydia whispered. She was pointing to the base of the rock where two of Miraak's cultists, easily identifiable by the bones masks and scaly brown robes they wore, were overseeing the construction of the curious webbed stone structure which now enveloped a large portion of the stone. One stopped by one of the workers, overseeing his work, quietly scrutinising before moving on to the next. Serana took her bow from her back and motioned for Emily to do the same.

"You take the one closest to the stone," she whispered. Emily nodded and nocked an arrow. She held the shaft of the arrow tightly, pulling the string taut as she aimed. Then she fired and the air whistled. The cultist dropped like a stone with a rattling moan and Serana's arrow left its bow. But the cultist, who had looked in horror at his fallen companion, leapt for cover so the arrow embedded itself in the snowy earth. The next second they were forced to scatter as a fireball hurled by the cultist where it struck a dead tree behind them. Smouldering debris melted holes in the snow around them. Two more arrows were fired but the cultist dodged them both, pulling a dagger from his belt as he locked onto his attackers.

"You will bow before Miraak or die," he yelled as he loosed another fireball from his palm. Emily ducked behind a rock where she swapped her bow for her blade. Lydia was taking refuge behind another of the rocks, taking any available opportunity to hurl rocks and other projectiles at their attacker. One struck the cultist in the chest and this gave Serana the opportunity to loose an icy shard. It struck the cultists between the eyes, shattering his bone mask and he fell back into the snow where he lay still.

The three adventurers hurried down the slope. Each of the workers wore the same fur clothes as the other Skaal they had seen in the village. They had not so much as stirred during the conflict, steadily working away with hammer and chisel while others hefted huge lumps of stone over to the structure.

"What do you think I have to do?" Emily asked, "He said to use my Thu'um. But on this structure or the stone itself?" She walked around the structure once, studying it on all angles. It was then that she noticed that on one face of the stone was a carving depicting several swirling lines. Emily drew back, summoning her Thu'um.

GOL

As she shouted tendrils of yellow light streamed from her open mouth and encircled the stone. They ensnared it, travelling in deep through the cracks in the ancient stone, fading from sight. The green light emanating from the rock changed in hue, becoming a rich vibrant green instead of the sickly hue of before. Then a rumbling built up from deep within the earth and as they watched cracks of burning light began to criss cross the structure the unwilling men and women had built. It grew in intensity as the rumbling continued to build.

"Get back," Emily cried to Serana and Lydia. No sooner had they cleared the area when the stone structure exploded, scattering debris far and wide. It hissed where it landed, melting the snow. Then a guttural roar arose from the pool of water the stone sat in and something hideous rose up from it. It was blue and scaly and stood as tall as the tundra giants of the mainland. Its head resembled that of an anglerfish and its bulbous yellow eyes glowered at them. The villagers now stirred and when they saw the hulking beast some staggered back in fear while the braver ones reached for their weapons. Hideous jaws filled with razor sharp teeth parted and it spit a bilious tentacle filled substance which struck one of the nearby rocks. The tentacles writhed and lashed out where they struck. The lurker eyed the freed slaves and those who freed them with contempt. One of the Skaal was the first to strike, bringing down his iron war axe upon the creature's leg. It roared and swiped at him with one clawed hand, sending him staggering back. Two others took his place. They carried spears and jabbed at the creature from all sides. The lurker reared back and brought down one clawed foot in amongst the Skaal. Serana launched a bolt of lightning at the Daedra. It rippled across its scaly skin and caused it to falter. Emily joined her lightning with Serana's and the Lurker roared its fury and pain. It lunged forwards and Emily leapt to one side before continuing the assault. At last the beast fell and unlike any Daedra Emily had seen before in her travels this one did not vanish into the ground. Instead it remained, lifeless in the dirt and snow.

"You are the ones that freed us," came a voice behind her. She turned to see several of the Skaal standing behind them.

"Is everyone alright?" Emily replied.

"I think so, just tired," replied a man, "He had us working at this shrine for All-Maker knows how long. I feel as though my mind has been asleep but my body was not."

"We should head back to the village," said another, "Thank you again."

"Right," said Emily, turning to Serana, "Next is the Water Stone. That's on the west side of the island. Do you think we will make it there tonight?"

"Doubtful," Serana replied, "We could probably get about halfway if we stick to the coast."

"Let's hope we can find a cave or something then," said Emily, returning the map to her pack.

They hiked their way down to the shore and followed it westward. Horkers lined the beaches, their corpulent sides rising and falling as they slept. One or two raised their heads as they passed, watching them warily. Ash blew in over the sea, coating their armour and settling in their hair. The coastline was mostly flat and Emily saw the pale eggs of the slaughterfish's sea-dwelling cousins half buried in the sand. Lydia led the way, torch held aloft as they continued their pilgrimage around the isle.

As dawn approached they sought shelter in a sea cave. It was half flooded and they were forced to perch on the protruding rocks within to remain dry. The cave smelt heavily of brine and fish and Serana pulled her cloak up over her nose to block out the worse of the smell. They found the bones of many small fish littering the shore which suggested that some form of fish-eating mammal made its home here on occasion. There was no means to build a fire so Lydia had to content herself with warming her hands on the torch which she wedged in between two rocks. At lunch she left the cave and fetched a long piece of driftwood. From this and some string she fashioned a crude fishing pole and sat just in the mouth of the cave, dangling her line in the water. And here she sat like a statue for over an hour, intently watching the water. At length the line gave a jerk and she pulled on the rod, fetching out a small slimy-looking fish. It was hardly a Jarl's feast but she cooked it patiently over the burning torch though Emily noticed how she grimaced when she bit into it only to spit out a mouthful of bones. When the pitiful meal was done she curled up as best she could in her bedroll.

"I hope we are able to find more comfortable sleeping quarters tomorrow, my Thane," she said.

"I hope so too," Emily replied.

As it was they did have more luck on the second day. They came upon the Water Stone just after one in the morning. Men dressed in the clothes common among mariner's tended this shrine, speaking in the same slow wavering tones of those they had seen previously. Emily repeated the word she had used at the Wind stone and another lurker like the first rose from the depths. The sailor took one look at the beast, a cry of, 'Kraken,' went up and they took to their heels. It fell upon the three adventurers to fell the beast before they could continue.

The third stone lay just outside the fortified coastal city of Raven Rock. Many of those who laboured there were townsfolk. Emily recognised one of them as the ash yam farmer who had sold them the Dwemer goggles before they left for the temple. The stone bore the symbol of the earth and just as before when Emily shouted at the stone the parasitic webbed structure constructed by the locals was destroyed and a lurker came forth to do battle. The battle was a short one with the help of the locals, many of whom wielded fire and lightning magicks. One was wounded and when the battle was done was carried back to the city to the resident healer, a stern Dunmeri woman.

At daybreak they found shelter in a fort on the southern half of the island. Lydia reckoned it had once been an Imperial outpost as before the eruption of Red Mountain the island of Solstheim was under Skyrim, and by extension, the Empire's, rule. It was little more than a ruined tower but provided shelter enough. Lydia spent much of the morning hunting. She returned around noon carrying the body of a repulsive looking creature. It had long backwards facing hind legs and a high domed head. A single arrow pierced its leathery brown hide in the centre of the thorax.

"What is that thing?" Emily asked as Lydia tossed the inert body to the ground.

"Ash hopper," she replied. She knelt by it and began to remove the legs. She took her knife from her belt and began working away at the fleshy portions of the hind legs. When the leathery skin was stripped away it revealed pale pink flesh. She cut off several strips and laid them on a small flat rock which she placed on the fire. To this she added liberal amounts of salt to preserve it over the days to come. When it was done she took the rock off the fire and allowed the meat to cool.

"What's it taste like?" Emily asked curiously, eyeing the meat as the housecarl bit into it.

"It's not as bad as it looks," was Lydia's reply, "Not unlike chicken." Emily tilted her head to one side.

"I'll never understand why every unusual meat tastes like chicken," she said.

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked.

"They say the same of alligator, rattlesnake and loads of other things," Emily replied, "It's strange."

The day passed quietly enough and they departed at nightfall. They followed the coast on round to the east. As Emily crested a sand dune she paused as a mournful moaning met her ears. It was deeper and more desolate than the wailing of the netch they'd heard in the bay. It did not serve to startle her, it sounded so melancholy. They eventually tracked the moaning to an enormous flea-like creature. It had long spindly legs supporting its large armoured carapace which looked to have been altered to make room for a form of carriage. A pair of forelegs were held up before it in a similar manner to that of the praying mantis though this creature, for all its size, looked far from threatening. As they watched it wailed again.

"What is that?" Emily asked, pointing to the creature.

"A silt strider," Lydia replied, "They used to be found all over Vvardenfell before the eruption of Red Mountain. The Dunmer used them to travel long distances. That one sounds in pretty poor shape though." Emily looked up at the silt strider.

"Poor thing," she said quietly as she followed Serana across the dunes.

Their travels took them around a narrow peninsula. From here they could see large mushrooms, far larger than even those of Blackreach. Serana mentioned having read a book concerning these structure which were used as places of residence by the Telvanni wizards. Emily found it odd that they would choose to live in giant fungi.

"Would the spores not get into their lungs?" she had asked. Serana shook her head.

"From what I've read you could hold the spore of one of those mushrooms comfortably in both hands," she had replied.

There were now only two stones left to cleanse. The first lay just North of the giant Telvanni mushrooms. It bore the symbol of the sun and those who worked upon it looked to be ruffians dressed in chitin armour. Many wore goggles like those worn by the three adventurers, designed to keep out the ash and all had scarves pulled up over their noses and mouths. When the stone was cleansed and the lurker vanquished they seemed too baffled over recovering their senses to consider an attack. Instead they loped off into the ashen wastes, muttering among themselves.

The final stone was the beast stone and it lay close to the Skaal village.

"Last one," said Emily as they stood before the stone. Those working it were not human but blue skinned and bow legged. During the short skirmish at Benkongerike Emily had never got a clear view of their shadowy assailants. The Rieklings were quite a bit smaller than she had imagined. They were rodent-like in their movements and their speech was quick and entirely incomprehensible. They were, as near as Emily could guess, reciting Miraak's mantras in their own tongue. When the stone was cleansed with the word of power and the lurker rose from the depths they fell upon it with reckless abandon, taking their spears and jabbing at the beast from all sides. Emily saw what Lydia meant about sheer numbers having the ability to overwhelm as the lurker lay sprawled in the ashes, spears poking out from every patch of exposed skin. The Rieklings set up a jabbering and Emily fearfully reached for her dagger but Serana stayed her hand. For a moment longer the Rieklings grunted and gabbled to one another. Then they retreated into the dark, rattling their spears and jabbering to the empty sky.

With two hours to dawn they arrived back at the Skaal village, having gone on a full circuit around the island and ending up in almost the same spot as they began. Storn was waiting for them in his hut.

"I can feel it, all but the Tree Stone stand free," he said as they approached. Emily nodded.

"Yes, it's done," she replied, sitting down heavily on the bench. Though exhaustion did not plague either her or Serana, their legs were weary from slogging through the ankle deep ash present on much of the island.

"Are you ready to go to Winterhold?" Storn asked.

"May we rest first?" Emily asked, "That was a long journey."

"Very well," Storn replied, "We'll leave at sunset. We should be able to get a boat from Windhelm and go from their to Winterhold. We will speak with the mages there." He then turned to his daughter who sat by the fire sharpening her war axe. "Frea, I am leaving you in charge of the barrier. Do you remember the incantations I taught you?"

"Yes father," Frea replied, "But with you gone our defences will be severely diminished. I can't fight and maintain the barrier."

The three adventures turned to look at one another.

"Lydia," said Emily, "Would you be willing to stay here with Frea and maintain the defence?"

"I would if that is your will, my Thane," Lydia replied, "My sword and shield stand ready."

"Well answered," said Storn, "We will depart at sunset after I address the other villagers and prepare them for the weeks ahead. This will not be settled in a day."

As the sun set Storn left the hut to address the villagers. It was clear that Frea was not entirely happy at the prospect but she seemed grimly determined to take up the duties her father had set her. Lydia stood with the rest of them as Storn made his address. He promised to send them word as soon as word reached him of Miraak's defeat and Frea in turn promised to send word if anything changed on Solstheim.

"Tonight I will begin my journey to the mainland," said Storn, "A month, maybe two. But when I return, hopefully our village will be able to rest easily, free of Miraak's influence."

"Sera," Emily whispered, "Is it down to this forbidden knowledge that he can influence people all the way from Earth?"

"Doubtless," Serana replied, "Hermaeus Mora's hidden knowledge, those who use it and are not driven mad by it, are said to become god-like in their abilities." Emily gulped.

Once Storn had given his address he and two others from the village left with the two vampiresses. Emily pulled her scarf up over her nose and mouth as the ashes began to swirl about them. The wind had got up and now an ash storm was gathering. Storn led them down over the hills to the coast and from there they made their way to the port city of Raven Rock. True to his word Captain Gjalund and his ship had long since departed for Skyrim.

"How are we going to get back, Storn?" Emily asked, "When we came here, the captain of our ship didn't want to hang around."

"I'm sure we can find someone to take us back," Storn replied, "If your Captain has truly stopped coming here there will be other mainlanders greedy enough to take up his mantle." Emily was not sure how she felt about this remark but elected to keep it to herself.

As it was they were in luck. A merchant ship from Windhelm had arrived only a day ago. His craft, the North Wind, lay docked in the harbour. The captain was a bald Nord man named Kjar. He was deep in conversation a Dunmer woman.

"I thought you'd be happy to come to Solstheim," the man said, "And see some of your kin."

"Kjar, look around, look at what this place has become," the woman replied, "Seeing this place only brings me sorrow. The sooner we get that netch leather, the better."

"I'll see to it in the morning and then we can be off," the man said. He made to leave the deck when Emily called up to him.

"Excuse me, are you heading to Skyrim anytime soon?" she asked.

"Aye traveller, tomorrow if all goes well," he replied.

"Would you be willing to take passengers?" Emily asked.

"I'm a merchant, lass, not a passenger ship," he replied. He looked down at the party of five gathered on the docks, "But if you were willing to pay your way maybe I could make an exception."

"How does one hundred gold each sound?" Emily asked.

"You've got yourself a ship," replied the captain, "Climb on board." He disappeared for a moment and returned with a large wooden plank which he threw down to form a gangplank between the docks and the ship. One after the other they climbed aboard. The captain led them below decks and showed them an area where they could bunk down. Emily hefted her pack up onto the bunk.

"Sera, do you really think Storn and these mages at the college can create a portal back to Earth?" Emily asked.

"I don't know, Em," Serana replied. Her tone was wistful, "Maybe." Emily finished unpacking her sleep attire and laid it out upon the thin sheets.

"Are you alright?" she asked Serana gently.

"I'm fine," Serana replied a little too quickly. Emily sat down next to her on the bunk and rested a hand upon her shoulder.

"You know we can always talk about anything, right?" she asked, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Yes, I know," Serana replied with a slight smile that, to Emily, didn't look as though it quite fit. Not entirely satisfied she nonetheless let the matter drop for now, getting up and climbing into her bunk.

"Suppose we've got some time to kill before we cast off," she said, "What do you want to do?"

"I think I'll just get some rest," said Serana, lying back on her bunk. Emily rolled over and looked up at the wooden ceiling. She sighed and reached over, picking up a book that lay at her side. She flipped it open and began to read but after several minutes she realised she was not taking in anything that was written there. She rolled over and looked down at the bunk below her. Serana was dozing, her book lying open on her chest. Emily lay like that for several moments, chin propped up on her folded arms as her gaze rested upon the sleeping vampiress.

"I wish you'd tell me what's worrying you," she murmured before lying back on the pillow.

Emily awoke several hours later to the gentle swaying motion of the ship. For a moment she just lay there, listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the sides of the boat. She glanced at her watch. It was a little after midnight. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over, looking down at the bunk below her. The bed was empty and this caused all traces of sleep to leave her in an instant. Hastily she hopped out of the bunk and pulled on her travelling cloak over her night attire.

Emily climbed the stairs to the deck and pushed open the doors. Serana was standing at the prow of the ship, looking out over the waves. She made her way over to where she stood and rested a hand on her arm.

"Can't sleep?" Emily asked. Serana nodded.

"When I was little I used to come out and look at the sea," she replied, "Anytime I was…worried or couldn't sleep or just needed to think I'd come out and look at the waves." Emily looked up at her companion. Then she rested her head against Serana's shoulder.

"If they can, create a portal to Earth," said Serana after a moment. Emily looked up at her. "I want to come with you."

"Are you sure?" Emily replied, "Leaving your world behind, even if it is only temporarily, that's a pretty big step."

"Em, I'm sure," Serana said, "We don't know what kind of power Miraak has."

"I know," Emily replied, "But-." Serana shook her head.

"No, Em, I'm coming with you and that's that," Serana said firmly. Emily sighed, smiling and looping an arm around the elder vampiress.

"What would I ever do without you?" she said fondly.

"Don't," said Serana, shrugging her off. Emily looked at her, perplexed. Serana caught her gaze.

"I'm sorry, it's just," she said. She looked as though she wanted to say more but she couldn't seem to find the words. She sighed, "Look, never mind." She paused. "Maybe we should head below deck for a while." Her words did little to resolve Emily's puzzlement but she nonetheless followed the vampiress below deck. The seas were starting to get rough so they sat down on the edge of Serana's bunk. Serana pulled a faded old pack of cards from her bag while Emily fetched down a worn and weathered old tome.

They read and played cards late into the night and when at last the moons set they seemed to take some of the night's unease with them. As the sun rose over the yardarm and the first calls of the seagulls cresting the waves went up Emily lay back on the bunk, closing her eyes sleepily and still clutching five of the playing cards in one hand. She had been teaching Serana as best she could, for she was not entirely sure she could remember the rules herself, how to play poker. The vampiress in question was curled up on the bunk next to her. Without much to occupy them sleep came easily.

Throughout the day they drifted between sleep and talk, amusing themselves with games and books. They saw little of Storn and the two Skaal villagers who preferred to keep to their own cabins. At last as the moons rose on the second night the city of Windhelm came into sight. Emily and Serana were back on the prow, this time joined by the Skaal as they watched the land draw nearer.


	24. The Portal

They arrived in Winterhold after three days of travel. Emily often found herself feeling restless when they stopped to make camp and noted that Serana seemed to be feeling something similar. They didn't speak as much over the three days. Several attempts at conversation were made but they all fell flat. Emily passed the time practicing her spells and pacing restlessly around whichever encampment they found themselves in. On the third night the ruined city came into view. It was much how she remembered with many of the buildings close to the edge of the cliff being little more than piles of rubble and half-destroyed foundations. One building opposite the Jarl's longhouse, however, had scaffolding around it and evidently some attempt had been made to restore it.

"Looks like they've finally started to rebuild," Serana remarked as they stood on the top of the hill, overlooking the city.

"Yeah," Emily replied, "How long ago was the Great Collapse?"

"About eighty years ago from what I've read," said Serana.

"And it's taken them all this time?" Emily asked incredulously.

"They must've felt hopeless after the collapse," Serana replied, "And hopelessness leads to inaction."

"Oh, I see," said Emily.

"Come on, none of this is getting us nearer to that portal," replied Serana.

"Uh…yeah, okay," said Emily, her gaze wandering from the city to the college which lay beyond.

At the gate they encountered the same woman who had tested their skills so many months ago. There was a flicker of recognition when she laid her eyes upon the two vampiresses.

"I see you once more seek the wisdom of the college," she said, "And who are these strangers you've brought with you?"

"We are of the Skaal, from Solstheim," Storn explained, "We wish to speak to your archmage."

"With the archmage?" replied the woman with a note of scepticism, raising an eyebrow, "I'm afraid if you've been told that our archmage will hold audience with just anyone who comes calling then you've been misled."

"It's important," Emily piped up, "We need help. It's a long story but the short version is that a powerful Dragonborn named Miraak seeks to control all of Solstheim, maybe even Nirn."

"Miraak? All of Nirn? I hope you realise how improbable all this sounds," said the woman.

"Look, just ask the librarian, he'll know," Emily replied, "Storn here said there are old legends concerning him. Surely there'll be something written down in the archives here."

The woman sighed. "You are not going to leave if I ask it, are you?" she asked. Emily said nothing but stared intently at her. At last the woman looked heavenward as though seeking some guidance from the stars. "Very well," she continued, "I will ask Urag. But I warn you, the archmage will not be happy if I find you are wasting my time."

The motley crew followed the woman along the bridge. Glowing lights conjured from her fingertips lined the path and the main tower of the college towered over them as they crossed into the courtyard. Dominating the centre was a statue of a mage wielding magic in both hands. The stony face was contemplative of the skies above.

"I'd ask you all to wait in the Hall of the Elements," said the woman as she crossed over to a wooden door. She opened it and disappeared through it. Emily could hear her climbing the set of stone steps just beyond. Her steps receded and she turned to Storn.

"What exactly did you mean when we were back on the island when you said we would use the college towers to create a wayshrine?" she asked.

"When this college was built the towers were not arranged in the manner they are by chance," Storn explained, "Viewed from above the shape is roughly a triangle made up of the two smaller towers and the larger one which houses the library. I've a few books back home explaining the significance of each. In the centre is the courtyard and altogether the structure forms a sigil on a massive scale, a sigil which can be used to channel enormous amounts of magic. Normally I would not meddle with something so powerful. It has attracted many ambitious and power hungry mages over the years. But here we must make an exception."

"This portal, if its going to be giving out such immense amounts of magic, will it be safe?" Emily asked, "This college doesn't exactly look the most stable of structures."

"The college is far more stable than it looks," Storn replied, "As I understand it, magic is what makes the rocks it stands upon far stronger than nature intended. It would take something the magnitude of Red Mountain to cause its collapse."

Before Emily could say any more the door opened and the woman returned. She was joined by several others: a balding man in purple robes, a Dunmer man with a shock of white hair, a shrewish looking woman in yellow robes, an old man with white hair and beard and the old Orc they had met in the library when they went there in search of an Elder Scroll.

"Well, it seems you were correct after all," said the woman, scarcely masking her disbelief and seeming more than a little disappointed at being proven incorrect. "Urag did have some books concerning this Miraak of yours and none of it good. However, we've found no proof that he intends to take control of Nirn or even Solstheim considering he's dead. I presume you have proof to the contrary?"

"Yes, I spoke with Hermaeus Mora in Apocrypha," Emily replied. She hesitated, wondering if these mages would believe her decidedly unlikely story.

"You have been to Apocrypha?" came a voice from the back of the small assembly. A man Emily had not spotted before stepped forwards, "I welcome you to the College. I am Archmage Savos Aren." He was a Dunmer and he was dressed in navy, flowing, fur-trimmed robes. He had a knotted greying beard and carried himself with a distinguished if slightly haughty air.

"Yes," Emily replied, "I travelled there using this." She pulled the Black Book from her pack. She noticed the balding man crane in for a closer look while the bearded old man and the woman in yellow robes shrink back from the glistening black cover. The Archmage took the book gingerly from her.

"You risked a great deal using this," he said, "I doubt you understand just how much. In any case, what did Hermaeus Mora tell you? His dealings with mortals are rare and rarer still are the times where those who have spoken to him have a mind to tell what they have learnt."

"He told me Miraak has gone to Earth," Emily explained, "My homeworld. You see, I don't come from Nirn. Earth is my home." She noticed one or two of the assembly give her disbelieving looks and the woman in the yellow robes shook her head. "I understand how unlikely this all sounds."

"I believe you," came his reply. Emily blinked in surprise. "You have an air of someone unfamiliar with the land you walk on. The air of a traveller. And your magicka, it is similar, very similar in fact but not the same as that of your companions."

"I'm glad you believe me, Archmage," Emily replied, "Because we need your help. We need to go to Earth to confront Miraak before he can return here. He has many in Solstheim under his control."

"Travel between worlds is, regrettably, not well-researched here," said the Archmage, "I'm not sure what you have been told."

"It was I who told her to come here," Storn spoke up, "I believe we can use the towers here to channel the magicka we need to create a wayshrine. Her soul will remember its place of origin, she is the key to the portal."

"An interesting hypothesis," replied the Archmage, "Sound enough…assuming it works of course. Smaller portals covering much smaller distances have been attempted successfully but something of this magnitude…well, it's unheard of."

"We really need to try," said Emily beseechingly, "Who knows what he's doing to Earth."

"And you claim he is a threat to all of Nirn if we do not act," the Archmage continued. Emily nodded.

"Very well, we shall attempt a wayshrine as you ask," he continued, "But you should not get your hopes up. I reiterate, only small portals have been attempted before."

"A wayshrine to another world," Emily overheard one of the mages say, "If this succeeds this will finally show the Synod and the College of Whispers who has the firmest grasp of magic once and for all."

They followed the Archmage back out into the Courtyard. He came to a halt before the statue of the mage.

"This statue marks the main focal point of what will become the wayshrine," he said, "I will channel its energies here. Colette, Drevis, I want you to channel the energies atop the Hall of Countenance." The white haired Dunmer and the woman in the yellow robes exchanged glances. Emily got the distinct impression that neither were particularly happy with this new arrangement.

"Tolfdir, Faralda, I want you to channel the energies from the top of the Hall of Attainment and Mirabelle, I want you to go with Phinis and channel the energies from atop my quarters."

"Yes, Archmage," said a woman with an air of authority to match that of the Archmage. She and three others left the Courtyard in the directions the Archmage indicated.

"Let us begin the channeling once the three beacons have been prepared," said the Archmage, "If you have any questions, it is best you ask them now."

"Why is Miraak on Earth?" Emily asked. It was a question she had pondered since her encounter with the Demon of Knowledge in Apocrypha.

"I had presumed you already knew the reason, hailing from there yourself," the Archmage replied. Emily shook her head.

"I didn't plan to come here and I had no dealings with Miraak or anyone else from here before I stepped through that portal in Norway. I didn't even know it was a portal until I wound up in Dragon Bridge."

"Then in light of what you have told me I have only one hypothesis," replied the Archmage, "I believe this to be the first recorded case of Cosmic Displacement. When you came to Nirn this created a void in your world, a void that needed to be filled. Perhaps because of your shared dragonblood Miraak was chosen to fill that void. This would have torn him from Apocrypha. Something perhaps even Hermaeus Mora could not prevent."

"And how long do we have?" Emily asked, glancing over at Serana, "How long can you keep this portal open?"

"We have magicka reserves stored deep in the college we use to keep the island on which we stand in equilibrium," the Archmage explained, "We can safely tap into those for a time. But not long. I think we can safely sustain this portal for thirty days and nights. Beyond that I cannot say."

"Alright," said Emily, "I guess all we can hope is that that will be enough time to stop Miraak."

"You will have to kill him in order to journey back to Nirn, I hope you prepared to do that," the Archmage explained, "Once you are both on the same plane of existence… well, even I cannot say what will happen. It may be that he will be pulled back to Nirn. Or because the travel was enacted of your own free will, he may remain. We will monitor things here."

Savos Aren looked up at the three towers. At the summit of each a white light shone brightly against the winter sky.

"The three beacons are prepared," he said, raising his arms, "We must begin. The portal will likely open out onto the last piece of soil you touched before you came here. Once you pass through that portal all that follows will be down to you."

"To us," said Serana, resting a hand on Emily's shoulder. Savos Aren nodded.

"Very well, take care," he said, "I envy you both, the chance to traverse the planes of existence. This is the kind of magic every mage aspires to." Emily watched with open mouth as a blue light blossomed between the stone statues hands, growing and widening with each passing second, swirling with unknown energies. Winds whipped back their hair and cloaks. Emily could not see anything but light and could only guess at what lay beyond. She turned to Serana.

"I guess it's time," she said, holding out her hand to the vampiress. Serana took her hand, taking a deep breath.

"This is it," she said. Then they stepped forward. Their boots left the ground as they passed through the portal and into the unknown.


	25. A Whole New World

Emily and Serana blinked into the blinding lights that swirled around them, shimmering and shifting like a heat haze. Emily felt Serana's fingers tighten their hold. She brought a hand up to shield her eyes. Their boots touched solid earth and slowly the light began to fade. They found themselves standing before a stone archway at the top of a mountain, looking out over the mountainous landscape. Dominating their view were two large lakes separated by a rocky ridge. The moon, much smaller than its Nirn cousins, shone like a beacon over the two lakes.

"So, this is Earth?" said Serana, taking Emily's arm as she looked out over the impressive vista.

"Yeah, this is it," Emily replied, gazing in awe at the land she left behind so long ago, "Those are lakes Bessvatnet and Gjende. It looks like the portal took us to the very spot I travelled to Nirn from in the first place." She reached into her pocket and took out her phone, hastily switching on the device.

"What are you doing?" Serana asked.

The battery had fallen to three percent as Emily hurriedly switched on the GPS.

"I'm just going to," she said, tapping the screen and bringing up a menu, "There..I-." The screen went black just as the words, 'Location Marke-,' flashed across it. "Damn it," she swore. Serana was watching her, bemused, as she pressed the power button on the side repeatedly, hoping for a response. The phone's screen remained black and lifeless.

"I was trying to set the GPS to mark this location," Emily explained, "We'll just have to hope the command went through before the battery died."

"So, what do we do now?" Serana asked.

"We'll need to head Gjendesheim," Emily replied, "There's a lodge there near the visitor centre. We'll be able to stay there for the day. After that we'll need to head to the city. It's where we're most likely to hear anything about Miraak."

"What's the name of this city?" Serana asked.

"Oslo," Emily replied, "It's the capital city of Norway which is where we are now."

They followed the well-trodden hiking path which led down from the archway. It still glowed with a blue shimmering light, showing it to be active. Serana cast one last look back at it before it disappeared from sight.

"So, this city," said Serana, turning back to Emily, "Is it anything like London?"

"In a lot of ways, yes," Emily replied, "But from what I remember it's a lot cleaner. Less gum stuck to the pavement and not as much rubbish lying in the gutter."

"You always spoke of it so glowingly before," Serana noted. Emily smiled.

"Yeah," she said sheepishly, "Well, Sera, you ever hear that saying…about the grass always being greener on the other side? I guess it's a little like that."

The path they trod was rocky and vegetation was sparse. A thin layer of snow covered most of the ground and the plants that poked through were small ground cover plants and tussocks of thick dry grass. The small stones moved under their boots and skittered down the dry path ahead. Emily glanced up at the night sky. The moon was high and she guessed it to be around midnight. She moved the dial on her watch to the proper time.

They crossed a small streamlet which ran down the side of the mountain. They stopped as they noticed they were not alone by the shallow waters. Moonlight glinted on curving antlers as the reindeer lifted its head from the water, warily watching the two vampiresses. Then it turned and took to its heels, descending the mountainside at a seemingly impossible clip.

"It's a lot like Skyrim up here," Serana noted.

"That's why it took me a little while to realise that I wasn't on Earth anymore," Emily replied, "I just thought I'd taken a wrong turning on the hiking path."

They followed the reindeer further on down the steep slope, taking a much slower pace and picking their way carefully over the rocks. As they went further down the vegetation grew more plentiful and the snow lay only in small drifts in the lee of the larger rocks. Grass covered the ground in great swathes and they could see the buds of the small yellow mountain flowers dotting the landscapes peeking between the blades.

"It's not far now," Emily said as they rounded a bend in the hiking path, "There's a cable car station somewhere along here."

"A cable car?" Serana questioned.

"It's how we're going to get down off this mountainside," Emily replied. She paused. "Hmm, they…probably don't operate this late at night. We might have to take it anyway. There'll be a control box."

It wasn't long before Emily caught sight of the cable car, the moonlight glinting on the sleek metal body. Serana looked at the cable car. It resembled something of Dwemer make but it was a good deal shinier. Above the pod-shaped body fitted with glass windows was a series of cables and rods. Emily's attention was instead taken by a squat metal building next to the cable car. She followed Emily over to the door where Emily peered in through one of the windows. The controls were deserted and she took a series of lockpicks from her bag. She jammed her pocketknife into the keyhole and inserted the lockpick.

After a few minutes of jiggling the lockpick she sat back.

"I'd forgotten just how much more…difficult Earth locks were," she said.

"Let me try something," Serana replied as she summoned ice around her fingers. She placed her hand upon the lock and held it there as the ice crept across the metalwork. It seeped deep into the lock. Then she took up her dagger and, with a well-aimed thrust with the hilt of her dagger, punched a hole in the brittle metal where the lock had been. She reached in and felt around for the handle. With a click the door swung open.

"Good thinking," said Emily as she got to her feet, "Let's see if we can get this hunk of metal up and moving."

Serana followed her into the control room. Emily crossed the room to the controls which comprised of several levers and buttons. She examined them carefully before pulling one of the levers. She looked out of the control room window quickly, eagerly searching for any movement. There was none, nor was there any reassuring rumble of machinery.

"Is something supposed to happen?" Serana asked.

"I must have missed something," Emily said thoughtfully, looking over the controls. Her eyes fell upon an empty key slot.

"We need a key," she said, "A small key to start the mechanism. Dammit. If the man who oversees the mechanism makes a habit of taking it home with him we'd better prepare for a long climb down."

They began to search the room, checking on desks and in cupboards.

"Would this be it?" Serana asked as she spotted a small red handled key hanging from the wall.

"Let's hope so," said Emily as she crossed the room and removed the key from the hook by the door. She inserted it into the key slot and turned it. Immediately the mechanism rumbled into life. Several lights came on along the length of the cables and inside the cable car itself which now swayed slightly from side to side in response to the rumbling machinery.

"Okay, we'd better make this quick before someone catches on to what we're doing," said Emily, looking at the series of levers, "You should get into the cable car. I don't know how soon after I pull this lever that thing will start moving. Normally the passengers wouldn't be the ones operating it."

"And if it does start moving immediately?" Serana asked.

"Then I'd better move fast," Emily replied with a wry smile, "Give me a wave once you're inside." Serana hesitated a moment before heading for the door. She hurried over to the cable car and pulled on the door handle. The door swung open easily and she jumped into the cable car. It swayed ominously and she clutched at one of the poles which ran from the ceiling to the floor.

"You'd better know what you're doing, Em," she said through gritted teeth. Then she waved out of the window to the control room where the Earthling was watching. Emily waved back. She must have pulled the lever for the cable car rumbled again and began to move, slowly at first but picking up speed.

Emily bolted for the door and hurried through it, boots skidding on the loose gravel. The cable car was moving off along the cables and she ran towards the platform. Serana was standing at the open door, watching her worriedly. Another jolt made her clutch the pole by the door more tightly.

Emily reached the edge of the platform and jumped over the yawning chasm. Below her the ground dropped sharply away. The next second the walls of the cable car surrounded her on all sides and she rolled to the ground, breathing heavily of air she didn't need. Serana closed the door and helped Emily up from the floor.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Never better," Emily smiled. She looked around. "Phew, we did it."

"Where exactly will this take us?" Serana asked.

"To the foot of the mountain," Emily replied, "From there there'll be a path that will lead back to the visitor centre and Gjendesheim. Well," she crossed over to one of the seats and sat down, "We might as well relax. It'll be a few minutes before we reach the bottom." Serana sat down next to her.

"So, Earthlings travel like this a lot?" she asked.

"Not an awful lot," Emily replied, "Only when they're travelling up and down certain mountains."

Serana looked out the window at the trees as they slid past. In the distance she could see the two lakes they had seen shortly after they left the portal. Beyond them were mountains and beyond that lay the unknown. Suddenly the world ahead seemed immeasurably vast. Vast and uncharted. Suddenly a voice rang out from somewhere close by. Emily jumped in her seat.

"Oppmerksomhet, oppmerkshomhet," came the voice. They froze, listening as the voice continued. "Politiet er blitt tilkalt. Det er ingen flukt."

"Where's that voice coming from?" whispered Serana, "And what's he saying?" Emily listened a moment before replying. She knew only a smattering of Norwegian and what she knew was a bit rusty.

"They've called the police," she replied at last, "The guards. They say there's no escape."

"Kom stille," came the voice again, "Du blir tatt for avhør."

"They're asking us to come quietly," Emily translated after a moment's pause, "They want to take us in for questioning." She peered out of the window, "Dammit, what'll we do?" Serana took hold of her hand.

"We lay low," she replied, "We lay low and slip out the moment they open the doors." As Serana began to fade from sight Emily got what she was driving at and followed suit.

They stood up and looked out of the front window at the approaching cable car station. Several men stood outside dressed in high vis jackets. One was carrying a small device which he brought up to his mouth, speaking into it.

"Kom stille," the voice inside the cable car repeated.

The men on the ground shifted uneasily as the cable car homed into view, lights piercing the dark midwinter sky. A lever inside the control room at the base of the mountain was pulled and the cable car came to a shuddering halt. One of the men stepped forwards. He peered in through one of the windows.

"Den er tom," he said in disbelief before turning to a man in a light blue shirt who seemed to be leading the operation, "Sjef, det er tomt."

"Tømme?" said the man in the blue shirt, striding towards the cable car, "Umulig."

He pulled open the door as his men flanked him on either side. Two had torches and they shone them inside the cable car. The man had been right. Empty. The grass behind them rustled and one turned to look but saw nothing. He turned back to the empty cable car which the men were pacing around, examining from every angle.

"That was a close one," said Emily as they stopped several yards down the path and looked back as they faded back into view, "Thank goodness for invisibility."

"Where to next?" Serana asked.

"We keep following this road," Emily replied, "Towards the lakes. When we get nearer we should be able to see Gjendesheim."

The land they traversed was mostly flat, covered in a layer of coarse dry grass. They could see for miles as they walked. It reminded them both strongly of the plains near Whiterun with its bumpy hillocks and far reaching flatlands. Emily checked her watch every so often. One O'clock. Two O'clock. Three.

At last they caught sight of an area where the rolling plains became flat and glass-like, black waters reflecting the night sky above. Lights twinkled at the edge of the lake from several squat buildings.

"Is that it?" Serana asked. Emily nodded.

"That's it," she said. Then she paused. "Wait, I don't have any money," she said.

"I take it they won't accept gold?" Serana replied. Emily shook her head. She began rummaging around in her bag. She pulled out a worn old wallet.

"I hope it's still in here after all this time," she said, "I hope I didn't throw it….wait, here it is." She pulled out a small plastic card. Serana looked at it skeptically.

"A piece of card?" she questioned.

"This is my credit card," Emily explained, "If this still works, we have enough. If it doesn't, we're in trouble."

"I'm not sure how happy I am entrusting our safety to a piece of card," Serana replied as Emily handed her the card. She examined it from all angles.

"It's kind of hard to explain," said Emily as she took the card back from Serana. "Basically this is money. About all the money I have in the world and if this card still works, we have access to it."

She stowed the card back in her wallet and they continued on along the path.

Gjendesheim was comprised of four black slatted and roofed buildings. Two were small single storey buildings which Emily took to be either outhouses or the cheaper, more spartan end of the accommodation while the other two were larger two story buildings furnished with balconies at either end. They sat close to the edge of the lake and there was a stone path leading down to a jetty. They followed the path up to the building whose windows were still lighted. This building housed the booking office which was overseen by a woman with greying hair and a pince-nez perched on the end of her nose. She sat at a polished wooden desk and she was writing in a large dog eared ledger. Emily pushed open the door and they stepped inside. The woman looked up when she heard the door creak.

"Kan jeg hjelpe deg?" she asked. Here Emily's limited knowledge of Norwegian failed her and she lapsed back into English.

"We need a room, please," she said, "For two."

"And how long will you be staying?" asked the woman, likewise making the switch from Norwegian to English.

"One day," Emily replied. The woman raised an eyebrow.

"One, 'day?' she repeated.

"I mean night, one night," Emily replied quickly.

"I'll see if we have a room available," said the woman before turning to check a series of cubby spaces behind her. Each were labelled with a number and most were empty. She paused a moment before reaching up to the top row where a set of keys dangled from one of the cubby spaces.

"Number 34 is free," she said, dropping the keys into Emily's hand, "That will be one thousand, three hundred and fourty-three krone." Emily handed her the card and she inserted it into a handheld device which she then handed to Emily. Serana watched as Emily punched in four numbers. The woman caught Serana's gaze and gave her a disapproving look. Serana just raised an eyebrow and stared right back. The woman dropped her gaze a moment later.

"Right, that's gone through fine," she said, "Enjoy your stay. You're in building three."

Serana followed Emily back through the door and out towards the other buildings.

"What was that all about?" Serana asked as she looked over her shoulder, "She suddenly gave me such a glare. If looks could kill I'd be dead…again."

"She didn't like you looking while I put my PIN number in," Emily explained, "If someone stole my card and had that number they'd have access to all my money. It doesn't matter to me if you look but some people won't get that."

"I think I'm starting to feel how you must have done when you came to Skyrim," Serana replied. Emily smiled.

"Well, at least you've got your dashing guide here to show you around," she said, pointing to herself.

"Aren't I so lucky?" Serana replied in a teasing tone.

They reached room 34 in cabin no. 3 and Emily put the key into the lock and turned. The room was mostly open plan with the main room containing both the sitting area and a kitchenette. Only the bedroom and bathroom lay in separate rooms. A large window afforded them a view of the lake whose surface lay flat and mirror-like. A few clouds were scudding in from the mountains.

"How about I make us a cup of coffee before we turn in?" Emily asked as she lifted down two mugs from one of the cupboards.

Serana sat down on the sofa. It was a little lumpy in places and she shifted her position a couple of times to get comfortable. Emily handed her the steaming mug and she brought it to her lips. She grimaced at the strong bitter taste. Emily noticed and gave a slight chuckle.

"Not a coffee drinker?" she asked as Serana set her mug down on the coffee table, "Don't worry, I can make you some tea if you'd like."

"That's alright," said Serana as Emily flopped down next to her, "I think I'll go to bed soon. You coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be in in a minute," Emily replied. Serana got up and left the room, making for the bedroom. Emily sat, swilling the contents of her mug. She sipped slowly at the coffee, relishing the flavour she had not tasted in so long.

Several minutes later she set the now empty cup in the sink along with Serana's. The bedroom was already cloaked in darkness when she entered. Presuming her companion to be asleep she undressed quietly. The bed creaked slightly as she sat down to pull on her night things. She listened for a moment but all was silent. Once dressed she lay down, pulling the covers up around her. As she rolled over in bed Serana spoke.

"Where do we go tonight?" came her question. Emily's eyes found her in the dark. She was lying with one hand tucked under the pillow her head rested on. Though her body gave messages of restfulness her eyes were alert.

"Well, from what I remember we have to go down road 51," Emily replied, "We need to keep going until we reach a place called Beitostølen. From there we can get a bus to Lysaker."

"What's a bus?" Serana asked. Emily thought for a moment.

"Imagine the cable car but longer and instead of cables it runs on wheels," she explained.

"I take it then you've made this journey before?" Serana questioned.

"Once, when I was coming here, when I found the portal to Skyrim," Emily replied. Serana seemed satisfied with this answer and turned over. Emily nestled down into the pillow. She was on the edge of sleep when Serana spoke again.

"I'm a little…nervous..about all this," she said. Emily shuffled a little nearer, looping an arm around the vampiress.

"Don't worry," she said gently, "We'll be fine." She felt Serana's hand take hers beneath the covers.

"Easier said than done," she said. Then she smiled, looking over her shoulder at the Earthling, "But I'll try." Emily smiled back, burying her head in the back of the vampiress' neck as sleep took hold.

They woke several hours later as the already leaden skies darkened further. A snow had fallen in the time they'd been asleep, covering the ground in a layer of crisp whiteness. They dressed and packed away their things before leaving the cabin. Emily left the keys in at the main office. The woman raised an eyebrow as the dropped them onto the front desk.

"I guess you were not joking when you said you were only staying the day," she remarked as she got Emily to sign a small slip of paper. "Was everything to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, thank you," Emily replied.

They left Gjendesheim and followed a smooth road which led up out of the car park towards towards another road which stretched out ahead of them as far as the horizon. The mountains were now cloaked in fog, leaving only their bases exposed.

"I'm afraid this is going to be a long journey," said Emily. She looked around. "Unless." Her eyes fell upon something leaning against the wall of one of the cabins nearest the road. Serana followed her gaze. The Earthling was looking at a strange vehicle. It had two wheels and a metal handle which looked as though it served as means of steering it. Emily hurried over to the building and checked the bicycle. It looked to be in good condition and was secured only with a simple lock.

"I take it we'll be riding that," Serana asked as Emily wheeled the bike towards the road. Emily nodded.

"I feel bad about taking it, Sera," she replied, "But Beitostølen is a very long way. I'm not sure we'd make it by daybreak."

"Well, I guess we've already taken a cable car," said Serana as Emily got on the bike, bracing against the ground with one foot. Serana got on behind her.

"You comfortable enough back there?" Emily asked.

"It can't be worse than riding that broom of yours," she replied. Emily feigned a hurt expression.

"But Sera, you told me you like flying," she said in a mock injured tone. Serana chuckled.

"Come on, let's go," she said and Emily kicked off from the ground and began peddling.

The road to Beitostølen was indeed a long one. They were flanked on either side by silver birch trees with russet orange leaves. A shallow stream ran alongside the road but this had largely frozen over. The road itself was flat and was marked only at the edges. Mercifully traffic at this time of night was scarce and they came upon only one car. This one was parked at the roadside and the driver inside looked to be checking a small device he held in his hand. The beams from his headlights showed up against the relative gloom of the road.

"Is that another Earth invention?" Serana asked.

"It's a car," Emily explained, "People use them to travel long distances. If I had mine we could make this part of the journey in a quarter of the time. You're going to see a lot more of them as we get nearer to the city. They're fast too so you'll need to be careful."

"Are the Earthlings not in control of them?" Serana replied.

"Yes but they travel that fast, it takes time to stop them," Emily explained, "We'll just need to take care in crossing any roads, that's all."

At last they joined road 51 which was the main road running from Vågå in the North to Gol in the South. Even at this late hour there was more traffic on this road and several times they were forced to pull into the ditch as a car hurried past them, blaring its horn. The first time this happened Serana's grip on Emily tightened, her fingers digging into her ribs and they had to swerve out of the beam of the headlights and into the dark of the roadside.

"Are you alright?" Emily had asked of her startled companion. Serana had been quick to cover up her shock as best she could and asked, "What in Oblivion was that all about?"

"I'm afraid not all drivers are that courteous towards cyclists," she explained, "Thankfully not all Earthlings are like that." It had taken Serana a few moments to gather together her nerves before they could set out again.

The road was long and largely unchanging, signs showing the miles to the nearest rest stop serving as the only things to mark their progress. Before the night was halfway done their bones were aching. Though far more efficient than walking the bicycle was not built for comfort. At around midnight they stopped to rest. Serana sat down on a large rock at the side of the road. Emily sat down next to her.

"How much further?" Serana asked.

"Another couple of hours at least I'm afraid," said Emily which elicited a groan from the vampiress. "The bus will be a lot more comfortable, I promise," she added reassuringly, "And we'll have a rest between now and then. There's an Inn in the village somewhere if I remember correctly. Come on, we'd better keep moving."


	26. Messages

As dawn approached they reached the little village of Beitostølen. Clearly catered towards the tourism trade, it was home to many cabins and hotels. The buildings were large, red, wood-slatted affairs. The largest of these was that belonging to the ski resort. Leading out from town and up into the surrounding mountains was a series of metal poles and cables. From these were suspended curious bench-like structures.

"What are they used for?" Serana asked as they walked along the snow-covered streets.

"They're ski lifts," Emily explained, "People use them to get up the mountain when they're going skiing."

"Why not just use a cable car?" Serana asked.

"Cable cars are kind of awkward to use when you're wearing skis," Emily replied, "Think long flat boards attached to the feet and used to slide down a mountain at high speeds." Serana chuckled.

"I see your point," she said, "So, let's see about finding somewhere for the day."

"It could be pretty rough," Emily replied, "By the look of this place, we've arrived during the skiing season. We've got a couple of hours though. We'll check around."

As it was they got lucky at the fourth cabin they checked at. The furnishings were a good deal more comfortable than the spartan accommodations of the day previous and so the day passed relatively quickly. Emily awoke around four in the afternoon. Outside the sun had already set and she sat up and stretched. Serana was already awake and looking out of the window.

"Sun sets early here, huh?" she said as Emily joined her at the window.

"At this time of year, yeah," Emily replied.

"Seems like a vampire's paradise," said Serana, resting her arms on the window sill.

"Yeah, though there's no vampires but us to enjoy it," Emily replied.

"You told me that before but…now we're here," said Serana, "It feels kind of…unreal. We're the only vampires in this entire world."

"Pretty crazy, huh?" smiled Emily.

"No crazier than why we're here," Serana replied.

"You've got me there," said Emily, resting a hand on Serana's arm, "Come on, we've got a couple of hours before the bus leaves. How about we get something to drink?"

"They got anything other than coffee?" Serana asked.

"How about an orange juice?" Emily offered.

As the clock above the sofa struck six they packed away the last of their things and left the cabin. Emily led Serana down the frozen village streets. The area of Beitostølen they found themselves in looked to be a shopping district home to grocery stores, sports shops and restaurants. They encountered several others on the way to the bus park. They were mostly tourists, dressed in heavy winter coats, gloves and hats. Several shouldered large backpacks and one overenthusiastic holiday maker had elected to wear his snowshoes in the comparatively shallow snow drifts that occupied the streets. They were chatting excitedly among themselves and Emily was able to detect at least two different languages in use. They stopped alongside the bus stop in the parking area where two other tourists, a man and a woman, were already standing.

"Hei hei, skal du til Lysaker Stasjon?" said the man. Emily looked blank for a moment. Then she replied.

"Jeg beklager, jeg snakker ikke norsk," she said.

"No worries," replied the man in perfect English, "I was just asking if you're going to Lysaker?"

"Yeah, we are," said Emily.

"Thank goodness for that," said the woman, "We were afraid we'd missed the bus." Emily checked her watch.

"No, no, it doesn't arrive for another," she paused, "Five minutes or so."

"Hey, you're not from Somerset are you?" asked the woman.

"Yeah, I am," Emily replied.

"Small world," said the man, "We're from Bristol, your neighbours in the North." He chuckled and the woman nudged him playfully in the ribs.

"Small world indeed," Emily smiled, "I'm Emily by the way. And this is Serana."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yvonne," replied the woman, "And this is Michael."

"You here on holiday then?" asked Michael. Emily shook her head.

"I'm afraid not," she replied, "Business." This was not the answer she would've chosen but it was the most believable and perhaps the closest to the truth they could get without arrest and imprisonment.

"We've been here on our honeymoon," said Yvonne, "One month today."

"That's great," Emily replied. Michael smiled at Serana who was standing a step back.

"Where's your friend from?" he asked. His tone was friendly but Serana looked more uncertain than ever.

"Sera's from Somerset too," Emily replied.

"And what kind of business brings you out here?" Yvonne asked. To Emily's surprise it was Serana who answered.

"Botany," she replied, "We were up studying the plants. To see what uses we can find for them in medicine."

They looked up as a distant rumbling met their ears. Trundling up the road was a long white bus. The two wing mirrors perched at the front put Serana in mind of an ant. Slush billowed out from under its wheels and its windscreen wipers were working furiously to deal with the first flakes that were starting to fall. It drew up opposite them and the doors opened. Emily gestured for Yvonne and Michael to get on first before climbing on after them.

"Two tickets to Lysaker please," she said. She pulled out some money she had withdrawn from the ATM and handed it over to the bus driver. Serana followed her back along the bus a little ways where they took a seat by the window. Serana looked out of the window at the village streets and the rows upon rows of houses lining them. The bus rumbled and she started slightly from the sound. These earthly transports with the exception of the bicycle all had one thing in common. They were noisy and they had an awful habit of going quiet and lulling you into a false sense of security before rumbling back into life again.

The bus pulled out from the bus park and began its journey down the road. Pale streetlights served to light their way out of the village and back out into the untamed wilderness.

"How long do you think we'll be on the road for?" Serana asked.

"About three hours I think," Emily replied, "Then we can get the train into Oslo and start looking for information."

"Where do you plan on looking?" Serana asked. Emily shrugged her shoulders.

"Honestly, Sera, I'm not sure," she replied, "We can check the newspapers. And if we get a hotel with a television we can check the news stations."

"And that'll tell us where this Miraak is?" Serana asked.

"It will if he's caused a stir," Emily replied, "And with the knowledge of Herma Mora and being in a world that isn't his own, I'll be more surprised if he hasn't." Serana rested her head against Emily's shoulder.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do?" she asked.

"To be honest with you, Sera, I've been trying to think of it as little as possible," she replied.

"You know you'll have to eventually," said Serana.

"I know," Emily replied, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"Em," said Serana after a moment's pause.

"Hmm?" Emily asked.

"What's a honeymoon?" Serana asked. She looked up at Emily.

"It's a holiday newlyweds go on," she replied, "Like a celebration of their marriage and when they share their first…shall we say…intimate experience." Although vampires are unable to blush Serana still gave a good impression of doing so.

"Why would they come all the way out here?" Serana asked, "The last time I checked, mortals don't like the cold."

"It's exotic," Emily explained, "Well, exotic to anyone from Britain. It gets cold there but doesn't usually snow. Just rains."

"Sounds lovely," Serana replied with a note of sarcasm evident in her voice.

"Where would you go?" Emily asked. The question seemed to take Serana off guard.

"I don't know," she replied, "Someplace warm. Maybe Elsweyr. The Topal sea."

"The moonlight shining on the sea, hmm?" said Emily, resting her head against Serana's. Serana's fingers began absentmindedly tracing small patterns on the back of her hand. Emily smiled as she looked out of the window, watching the landscape as it steadily changed. When they first left the village behind small deciduous trees grew close to the roadside, blurred together by the speed of the bus. But as they went further out into the country these gave way to towering coniferous trees that grew thick and woody. The road they travelled was split in two with a rough gravelly track running up the centre. Tussocks of grass and small spindly plants grew up out of the gravel and snow and were buffeted by the wind left in the wake of the bus. The landscape grew gradually more mountainous and Serana looked out of the window at the edge of the road where it sharply dropped away into a breath-taking ravine. They passed small laybys and byways, isolated homesteads and farmsteads. After a while they began to doze.

Serana awoke sometime later as the sound of the engine began to reverberate around them. She looked out of the window at the bright lights which lined the stone tunnel they were speeding down. She leant over and shook Emily awake. She yawned and looked out at the tunnel.

"What's happening?" Serana asked.

"I think this is the Skuitunnelen," Emily replied, "The Ski tunnel. We must be nearly there." Serana sat back in the chair.

"Are you alright?" Emily asked. Serana nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just," she replied, "All this. Cable cars, ski lifts, buses. It's a lot to take in."

"I know," Emily said gently, resting a hand on Serana's.

They left the tunnel after several minutes and found that the landscape around them had changed drastically. Gone were the mountains and coniferous forests, replaced by scrubby heathland and large deciduous trees with russet orange leaves. The road on which they travelled was wider and better maintained. Gone was the gravel track running up the centre. They passed under metal frameworks from which were suspended black screens. These, Emily explained, were to show which lanes were open. The roads were heavily populated with cars, trucks and vans. They moved with the bus in steady procession towards the city of Sandvika. Lysaker, their destination, lay just beyond. From the motorway they could see large buildings, some easily the size of Castle Dour. These were home to coach depots, offices and other places of business. Through two more tunnels the road took them and then up and round in a great loop which brought them to Sandvika itself. On one side they saw the Oslofjord, a large body of water connecting to the Skagerrak Strait and the North Sea. Row upon row of docks lay mostly empty with only a small amount of sailing ships, their sails down, occupying the berths. On the other side lay high concrete walls and beyond these, perched on the hills, were houses. Large, two pronged streetlamps cast large orange pools of light on the road ahead as they drove through Sandvika. After making a brief stop at the bus terminal they were on the road again.

At last the bus pulled up outside the train station.

"Hey, maybe we'll see you on the plane," Michael said as he waved to them before he and Yvonne headed for the road. Emily and Serana waved after them.

The train tracks themselves were located on a level above the road. They got off the bus and Emily led Serana in through the front entrance, past eateries and towards the ticket office. With their tickets purchased they made their way up the stairs to the platform. Serana looked over the edge of the platform at the parallel metal tracks with its wooden sleepers buried in a shallow layer of gravel.

"So this train is going to come along here," she said, pointing down the track, "And it's longer than a bus but it will keep to these tracks and we're in no danger whatsoever."

"That's right," Emily replied.

"And if the driver were to lose his concentration or make a mistake?" Serana questioned.

"It wouldn't matter, well, not to use as such," Emily replied, "The train's wheels are locked into these tracks. It can't move from them." She looked down at the far end of the platform before checking her watch. "The train should be along soon," she said, "And once we get to Oslo we'll book a hotel. Then we can start looking."

As Serana turned she spotted a train approaching the platform on the opposite side. It moved at such speed that she reflexively took a step back from the platform's edge. As it drew nearer the sound increased from a distant rumble to a deafening roar mixed with a rhythmic clatter as it went over the tracks. It drowned out all other sound and made Emily squeeze her eyes shut, blotting out all thought. The noise had been deafening as a mortal. As a vampire it was now overwhelming and she saw it was having much the same effect on her companion. She reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers as the sound continued. And then it was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving them blinking and rubbing at the sides of their heads.

"I hope we don't have to do too much of this," said Serana, "I've never heard anything so loud."

"They were always loud before," Emily replied, "But this time was…worse."

After several minutes passed their train arrived. As it was beginning to slow before it reached the station the noise had dwindled to the rumble of the engine and screech of brakes by the time it reached them. They got on and took a seat at one of the tables. The elevated position of the train upon the tracks afforded them a much better view of their surroundings. The train brought them to the town of Lillestrøm. Though only a town it was a good deal larger than the cities of Solitude and Windhelm. As she looked up at the towering buildings Serana found herself wondering what this city Emily had mentioned would be like. Surely it could not possibly be much larger. Many of the buildings were cube-like and solid in structure.

They found a hotel close to the station where Emily checked them into a room. She glanced at her watch.

"Okay, we've got a couple of hours until morning," she said, "I think our best bet is to find a newsagents and get a copy of the paper."

"Won't any newspaper be in the native tongue these people speak?" Serana asked.

"Don't worry, I thought about that," Emily replied, "We can bring it back to our hotel room with us. I can get my phone charged up there and we can run the headlines through the translator."

The newsagents they found was situated on a street corner close to the hotel. Serana kept close to Emily as they walked down the street. Even at this late hour they were not the only ones on the street. Several others passed them along the way. A few were evidently coming home from a party and they heard them before they saw them, their raucous singing filling the night air. It occurred to Serana that revellers were the same wherever you went. Noisy and unsteady with a tendency to cross your path entirely without meaning to. One of them called out to them good-naturedly before stumbling on.

Emily pushed open the door to the newsagents and they stepped inside. The man behind the counter was broad shouldered and muscular with black hair, much of which curled out from just above his ears, leaving the rest of his scalp bald. He was reading from one of the newspapers he had plucked from the large pile in front of him and a cigar poked out of the corner of his mouth. The two vampiresses crossed over to where the newspapers were arranged, each paper given its own box. Emily looked over the newspapers. This was not something she had ever shopped for before during her brief time in Norway prior to finding the portal to Tamriel. In the end she selected the newspaper with the boldest print and before approaching the counter she picked up a bottle of fizzy pop from the refrigerated cabinet. She handed over the money and the man nodded, still puffing on his cigar, taking it and giving them change from the till. They left the shop and returned to the hotel.

The hotel was a good deal larger than either of the accommodation they had stayed in before. The foyer was given over to the front desk and a series of small sofas and armchairs placed around an extravagant-looking fireplace. Across the foyer was a set of sliding metal doors. These concealed a small chamber which Emily called an elevator. It was startlingly similar to those they had found in the Dwemer ruins of Blackreach though Serana noted that it was a good deal quieter. Their room was on the fourth floor. A large window afforded them a view of the train station. Unlike the cabin there was no seating area. Much of the room was given over to the double bed which had white linen sheets and a heavy colourful duvet. A wooden table stood opposite and on this sat a black square device Emily called a television and a small white kettle accompanied with several sachets of coffee and tea. A small adjoining room held a fully outfitted bathroom which was supplied with several towels and small bottles containing shampoo and soap.

Emily kicked off her shoes as she sat down on the bed and pulled her phone from her pocket. She plugged it into a charger and spread out the newspaper before her. Serana sat down next to her and she opened the bottle of fizzy pop. They passed it back and forth between one another as they waited for the phone to gain enough charge to function. At last it switched on and Emily unlocked it. She was about to open the translator app when she noticed the small envelope icon at the top left hand corner of the screen. Curious, she tapped on it. She blinked a couple of times in unmasked surprise. The phone showed seven unread messages, all from the same number. It was a number she recognised.

"Maylene?" she said.

The first four were dated from shortly after her arrival in Skyrim and had only just come through. Two were dated at roughly monthly intervals from the first four but the final one was dated roughly three days ago. She opened the message.

'So, you finally decided to read my messages? Where are you? Where have you been?'

Emily closed the message centre.

"That's weird," she said.

"What is it?" Serana asked.

"She sent me a bunch of messages while I was in Skyrim," Emily explained, "Then silence for literally months and then she sent me another message the day we came to Earth. Has she been monitoring those messages all this time?"

"Didn't you tell her before you left that you were ending your relationship with her?" Serana asked. Emily shook her head.

"Not exactly," she replied, "I told her I needed time to think. I didn't count on disappearing off the face of the earth for over a year though." She chuckled but stopped when she noticed the serious expression on Serana's face.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked. Emily rested a hand on Serana's arm.

"Not a thing," she replied, "I've had my time to think and my time in Skyrim has showed me what it's like to be around people who don't treat me like trash. At most I'll tell her I've moved on. But I don't want to see her."

"I understand," Serana said quietly, shifting a little closer to the Earthling, "So, how about these newspapers?"

* * *

The woman stared intently at the message on the screen. One tick next to the message turned to two, glowing blue to signify the message had been read.

"She's here," she said to the man who sat across the table from her, "Now what? We could board a plane tomorrow and get over there."

"No need, Maylene," came the smooth reply, "Why go to all that bother when we can simply get them to come to us?"

"All right, and how are we going to do that?" Maylene asked, "I doubt she even remembers where to look."

"Just leave it to me, Maylene," Mathias replied, "And don't worry, I'll let you have a little chat with her before I claim her soul and we can return to Tamriel together."

* * *

Emily lay back on the bed. Nothing. None of the papers highlighted anything even remotely resembling a disturbance caused by a man who possessed the powers of knowledge and fate. There were no vast tentacles recorded emerging from the sea, no eyes filling the skies, no inky black cloud covering entire cities and blotting out the sun. Nothing. Serana lay next to her. She was watching a video Emily had shown her. Much of it meant nothing to her as these "memes", as they called themselves, were largely relating to events and bits of artistic culture on earth known as movies. Still, it was interesting to see what Earthlings watched to amuse themselves.

"What does a woman yelling at a cat mean?" Serana asked. She showed Emily the video.

"I think it's a reaction meme," she replied, "Like where you take a situation that you think fits with the picture and you put in the words to make it fit." Serana frowned.

"I…see," she replied. Emily chuckled.

"It's one of Earth's stranger forms of humour," she said as she got up and made her way over to the window. She pulled the curtains closed as the sky outside was beginning to lighten. She then took up a small piece of card with the words, 'Do not disturb,' written on it.

"I'd better put this up," she said, "Hotels aren't used to having nocturnal visitors." She hung the piece of card from the outside handle of the door to the room before re-joining Serana on the bed. She huddled under the covers and picked up the television remote, turning the television onto a comedy channel. Though in a foreign tongue the universal language of laughter was one easily understood and the television programme soon became a new source of interest to the vampiress. Forgetting their worries for a brief time, she nestled closer to the Earthling, sharing in the humour the comedy provided as the sun rose outside the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Norwegian is not a language I speak. At all. I got all the Norwegian in this and the previous chapter from a mixture of internet forums and google translate so if any native speakers happen across this fanfiction, please feel free to let me know about any errors. I'll be more than happy to correct them.


	27. Flight from Norway

“Em!” Emily rolled over, burying her head in the pillow. Someone was shaking her shoulder urgently. “Emily!” She opened her eyes and looked up at the vampiress leaning over her. She yawned.

“What is it, Sera?” she asked. Serana was holding the television remote in one hand and looked over at the television. Emily sat up, following her gaze.

“I was having a look at this thing, trying out some of the buttons to see what I could find,” Serana explained, “I stumbled upon a channel that’s in Tamrielic. English. Look.” Emily listened as the voices on the screen continued.

“We don’t have any more details on the cause of this outbreak at present,” said the news reporter, “The first incident was reported in the suburbs of Glastonbury.”

“Glastonbury,” Emily repeated, “That’s not far from where I live. What’s this outbreak they’ve been talking about?”

“They described it as a kind of lethargy,” Serana replied, “Some of them have been chanting some kind of strange mantra. They didn’t say what this mantra was but-.” She left the sentence hanging.

“Miraak?” Emily said. Serana nodded.

“What should we do? Chart a ship?” she asked. Emily shook her head.

“It would take too long by ship,” she replied, “We’ll have to fly.”

“Emily, we didn’t bring the broom,” Serana pointed out, “So unless there’s some flying bus we can take.”

“You’re closer to the truth than you realise, Sera,” Emily replied, “We’ll go by plane.” She got up and scrambled across the bed to the nightstand to where her phone still lay on charge. She unlocked it and began tapping the screen.

“With this I can book us a flight,” she said, “We’re just going to have to find a good price. Let’s see…” Serana sat behind Emily as she opened up one of the apps on her phone and began typing in one of the boxes.

“We’ll want to fly into London Heathrow,” she said, “We can book a night flight and be there before morning.”

“How is that possible?” Serana asked, “Just how fast do these planes travel?” 

“About five hundred miles an hour,” Emily replied, “And the time zones will be on our side travelling west. We’ll essentially be running away from the sun.”

“How soon can we fly?” Serana asked. Emily checked the screen.

“Tonight if we hurry,” she replied, “Thankfully we’re travelling light.” She paused. “We have a problem though.”

“What?” Serana asked.

“Security’s really strict on flights,” Emily replied, “Our bows, our daggers. They’ll never let us on. The shrinking charm might work for the bow but the daggers? A blade is a blade however small.”

“Couldn’t we just put an invisibility charm on them?” Serana asked. Emily shook her head.

“They’ve got metal detectors,” she replied, “Though granted I don’t know how they’ll react to moonstone or ebony. Those metals don’t exist here on Earth.”

“We’d better rely on our spells then,” said Serana, “But the bow?”

“The bow, I think we can get away with if we shrink it,” Emily replied, “But the arrows are a no-go. We’ll need to make our own once we touch down in England.” Serana nodded.

“Alright, you book the flight and I’ll handle the bow,” she said.

“Hang on, we’ve got one more problem,” Emily suddenly spoke up. Serana stopped midway towards the bags.

“What?” she asked.

“I’ve got my passport but you don’t have one,” Emily asked.

“What’s a passport?” Serana replied, “I’m guessing we need it to travel.”

“Exactly,” Emily said, “It’s a form of identification. They’ll be checking for them when we go through security and when we get on the plane.”

“How many people will be doing the checking?” Serana asked.

“One during security and maybe two when we go to board the plane,” Emily replied.

“Alright, I’ll just make them think they’ve already checked mine,” said Serana, “Or better still, I’ll turn invisible and slip by unnoticed.”

* * *

As the sun set behind the mountains on the horizon Emily and Serana left the hotel. Emily was carrying two tickets she had printed off using the communal printer in the hotel foyer and her passport. She’d checked it before leaving and found it to be still in date much to her relief. Serana followed her down the street. A snow had fallen during the day, coating the pavements in a fresh crisp layer of white. They followed the road down towards the train station.

“I think it’s safe to assume we’re taking one of these trains again,” Serana said as they stood on the snowbound platform.

“I’m afraid so,” Emily replied as she tucked the tickets and passport into her jacket pocket, “It’s not far to the airport though.”

“Alright, so, run me through what we have to do once we get there,” said Serana, “Let’s not have any surprises.”

“Okay, so we’ve got to go to the check-in desk,” Emily replied, “That’s where you’ll have to work your first bit of magic. They’ll want to see your “passport”.” Here she made a set of air quotes. “Give them this, then if there’s any CCTV they’ll think you’ve handed it over for inspection.” She handed Serana a folded piece of card which she pocketed.

“And what’s CCTV?” Serana asked.

“It stands for close circuit television,” Emily explained, “It means someone will be watching our activites from an office somewhere in the building. From little cameras up in the corners of rooms.” Serana looked up into the corners of the old station.

“Is that commonplace here on Earth?” she asked, “Was…anyone watching us yesterday while we were in our room?” Her tone was one of vague apprehension mingled with disgust at the thought.

“No, no, Sera,” Emily replied, “They don’t have cameras anywhere private. Only in public places.” Serana didn’t seem much placated by this explanation.

“Well, don’t you think that’s a little…disturbing?” Serana asked. Emily thought for a moment.

“Maybe a little,” she replied, “It is meant to be there to keep us safe but…it is a bit…weird.” Serana nodded.

“So, what then?” she asked.

“Then we go through security, that’s where those charms you put on the bow will come into play,” Emily replied, “Just do what they ask of you and don’t have anything on you made of metal. Then we can go to the departure lounge and wait there until they call our flight.”

“Sounds simple enough,” said Serana, folding her arms and pricking up her ears at the distant rumbling of the approaching train.

They boarded the train and took a seat in one of the compartments. Emily closed the sliding door and took a seat next to Serana.

“So, how do you feel about spending the day in an airport?” she asked. Serana leant back against the back of the chair.

“It’ll be a long wait,” was Serana’s reply, “Is there much to do to pass the time?”

“Not a lot I’m afraid,” said Emily, “We can have a look around the duty free and at least while it’s still night we can watch the planes coming in.”

“Well, wouldn’t do any harm to see what we’ll be flying in,” Serana replied, “How often have you travelled like this?”

“I’ve been on holiday a few times,” Emily replied, “I used to go on holiday with my parents once every couple of years.” Emily paused.

“What is it?” Serana asked.

“Sera, do you think I should go and see my parents?” Emily asked.

“You're asking me?” Serana asked, placing a hand on her chest. Emily nodded.

“I’m not going to be here long,” she replied, “And they probably think I’m dead. I want to see them but…how do I tell them, hey, I’m actually alive..sort of… and I’m going back to another world in another twenty days or so? Wouldn’t that be kind of…cruel?”

“But won’t you regret not seeing them?” Serana asked.

“I don’t know, probably,” Emily replied. Another pause. “Yes,” she said at last. Serana sighed and rested a hand on the side of her face.

“You need to decide what’s right,” she said, “Remember, you’re immortal. And an eternity is a long time to carry around regrets. Believe me, I know.”

“I know, Sera,” Emily replied. The vampiress tugged her gently into an embrace which she returned gratefully, looking over her shoulder at the window, beyond which the streets and towering buildings rushed by.

They arrived at the airport as the clock reached the hour of eleven. As they headed for the front doors the air was filled with a faint roar from the skies overhead. Serana looked up in time to see a large metal object descending from the sky at a shallow angle. Lights blinked at the ends of two protruding metal fins that stuck out on either side and a row of lights ran from its nose to its finned tail. Serana braced herself to take cover but stopped when she noticed as those around her including Emily hardly took the large flying object under their notice.

The doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss and they entered the aiport. Inside, despite the late hour, the place was a hive of activity. More humans than she had ever seen in her life in one place before were bustling to and fro, pulling after them large cases on wheels. Several were carrying a wallet sized book similar to the one Emily carried and the decoy one she had given her. She followed Emily towards a large television that hung from the ceiling. On it were various numbers accompanied by names unfamiliar to her. The writing on the screen seemed to make sense enough to Emily as she pointed to one of the long lines of desks and told her that was where they needed to go first.

The woman behind the desk was slender with dark hair pulled back tightly into a bun and thick rimmed dark spectacles. Emily handed her, her passport first. The woman looked from the passport to Emily, scrutinising her for a second before handing the passport back, seemingly satisfied. Then it was Serana’s turn. She handed over the decoy and the woman flipped it open. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to voice her vexation when she stopped. Emily watched as Serana’s hands made barely perceptible gestures as she muttered under her breath. Then the woman handed back the decoy passport with a curt nod and they continued on their way.

They climbed the stairs marked, ‘security’ as Serana did not care for the “moving stairs,” as she referred to them. The security area was packed and they were made to join a large queue that snaked all around the room. Ropes strung between metal pillars cordoned off areas of the queue from one another. At the far end of the room was a row of large machines which reminded Serana somewhat of the large Dwemer boilers they had seen in Alfthand. But these were new, gleaming and did their work with less grinding and clanking than their Dwemer counterparts. The queue was slow to move and she noticed several of the people there tapping their feet impatiently and checking devices on their wrists similar to the one Emily wore.

“Are we likely to be here long?” she asked her companion.

“Not long,” Emily replied, “Security always takes a little while.”

As the minutes dragged by the queue gradually shortened. Serana watched those in front as they hefted their bags onto the conveyor belt and watched them disappear into the hatch. She soon discovered that the hatch they disappeared into did not obscure them from sight for dreadfully long and she asked Emily what the purpose of such an action was. Emily’s answer did not make things much clearer.

“Scan them?” she asked.

“It means to check them for illegal substances, earth’s version of skooma, blades and explosives chemicals,” Emily replied, “That sort of thing.”

At last it was their turn. They hefted their bags up onto the conveyor belt and joined the slow moving procession as they were called one by one through the slender archway which seemed to beep at random intervals. Emily was first to be called through, the security guard silently gesturing her forwards. Serana watched as the Earthling passed through the archway. At once it set up a frantic beeping and Emily was motioned over to one side towards a woman. Serana could barely hide a look of dismay as the woman began patting her companion up and down. When the woman was done she motioned Emily over to the conveyor belt and Emily retrieved her bag just as Serana was called through. Perhaps it was because the archway didn’t beep for her for she was motioned straight over to the conveyor alongside Emily.

“Why did you let her do that to you? To touch you like that?” she asked in a whisper she knew her companion would hear.

“It’s part of the rules,” Emily replied in an equally quiet voice, “After me warning you not to have anything metal on you it seems I neglected to make sure of the same myself. It was probably something stupid, a clasp or a button. It doesn’t take much.”

“But was all that…patting entirely necessary?” Serana asked as they left the security hall behind, “On Nirn, no one would touch anyone like that…so intimately… unless they were…or wanted…”

“Trust me, it’s not like that at all,” Emily replied, resting a hand on Serana’s arm, “They were just checking to make sure I wasn’t concealing something on my person. Nothing more.”

They followed the hallway down towards a large lounge. The edges were lined with shops of all kinds, ranging from off-licenses to eateries, perfume stalls to souvenir shops. Evidently this lounge was situated at the front of the building as large windows looked out upon a vast flat expanse.

“I’m afraid this is where the real waiting begins,” said Emily as they reached the window, looking out at the runway. Several planes were parked alongside the buildings. Serana watched as one reversed out onto the road intended for them and rode out of sight. Another hurtled along the distant runway and she watched as it canted back and rose steadily into the air.

They watched the planes for some time, choosing seats close to the window.

“How long have Earthlings had these?” Serana asked.

“About one hundred years I think,” Emily replied.

“I was picturing something more like the airships you talked about before,” Serana confessed. She drummed her fingers upon the arm of the chair.

“Are Earthlings an advanced race then, like the Dwemer?” she asked.

“It depends on how you define advanced,” Emily replied by means of an answer.

“The people of Nirn have nothing like this,” said Serana, looking out of the window.

“They have magic though,” Emily replied, “And alchemy and all kinds of amazing things. And…” she nudged Serana playfully, “They don’t have totally amazing vampires." Serana gave her a slight smile at this.

“Besides, fancy gadgets don’t make you advanced,” said Emily, “What really counts is having the smarts not to use them to blow up your fellow humans over stupid reasons. Or hoarding away something that could save others.”

“How do you mean?” Serana asked.

“Earth’s history is riddled with wars and selfish people who hoarded power for themselves,” Emily replied, “So they could live in the lap of luxury while those around them suffered. We might have cars and planes and things but we…well, some of us are still...animals. Don’t get me wrong, there are some amazing humans on Earth, some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet but..” Serana listened as Emily continued.

“Since my time in Tamriel, I’ve seen a lot more human kindness,” she said, “People helping one another out for no reason other than they just want to.”

“Don’t get all sentimental over Nirn, Em,” Serana replied, “You met my father, remember? And Miraak’s no saint either.” Emily smiled.

“I guess both worlds have their faults, huh?” she said.

The night passed slowly. Serana watched the planes come and go while Emily got out a book and began to read. As daylight approached they chose an area far from the windows where they could rest. In this manner they passed much of the day, spending an hour or so here and there wandering around the various shops. They slept through midday and on waking Emily went to one of the cafés to buy them both a drink. 

“How much longer?” Serana asked as the sun set behind the distant hills. Emily checked her watch. It now contained a new battery which she had picked up from one of the stores.

“Another two hours,” she replied. Serana sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Emily rested her head on her shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be here before you know it,” she said.

“What’s it like?” Serana asked, “Flying on a plane I mean.”

“Exhilarating,” Emily replied, “I love the take off. And the views you can see are amazing.”

“Do they fly high?” Serana asked.

“Above the clouds,” Emily replied, “They start looking like snowy hills and valleys from that high.”

“A little like that broom of yours then,” Serana smiled.

“But a lot more comfortable,” Emily replied, “And with a lot fewer splinters in unfortunate places.” Serana chuckled.

“Remember our first flight?” she asked gently.

“How could I forget?” Emily chuckled, “A flight across Skyrim in sub-zero temperatures capped off with crashing into a tree and getting a lot of thorns in my bum.” Serana’s chuckle turned to a laugh.

“Hey, pass me some of that soda stuff,” she smiled as Emily handed her a plastic bottle. She then picked up a magazine and propped it on her knees, leaning back against Serana.

* * *

"Kan alle passasjerer som ønsker å gå ombord flight 1B03 fra Oslo Lufthavn til London Heathrow, ta veien til gate førtifem." Emily cocked her head to one side, listening to the message coming over the tannoy. A moment later it came again, this time in English.

“Could all passengers wishing to board flight 1B03 from Oslo Lufthavn to London Heathrow please make their way to gate forty-five.”

“Come on, Sera, that’s us,” she said as she got to her feet, picking up her bag. Serana slung her bag over her shoulder and followed the Earthling down one of the winding hallways. Many others accompanied them down the wide corridor. The corridor itself, once they left the main building behind, was lined with windows that gave them a view of the vast tarmac expanse that lay beyond. In the distance she could see a structure that greatly resembled a guard tower. And out on its own was what looked to be a small orange flag. But as she stared at it she noticed that it was not a strip of fabric but a long tube which blew in the strong winds that buffeted the airfield.

The corridor brought them to a doorway cordoned off by more rope. Already a queue had formed which they joined. Most stood with their bags at their feet, kicking them along whenever the queue moved forward. Many were engrossed in their phones, something Serana had taken note of as a popular Earthling past-time on arriving in this world. She could not see what was quite so intriguing by these small devices the Earthlings put such stock in. A few of the more anxious flyers stood, gripping the handles of their push along luggage tightly.

“Emily, some of these people seem nervous,” she said in a hushed whisper.

“Some people don’t like flying much,” Emily replied.

“Why do it then?” Serana asked.

“It’s still the quickest way to travel,” Emily replied.

“Just how quick is quick?” Serana asked. Emily checked her boarding pass.

“We’ll be in the air about two hours,” Emily replied. Serana was silent for a moment.

“Two hours?” Her response was one of unparalleled incredulity. She noticed one or two of the other passengers turn to look at them.

“Yup, that’s all,” said Emily. The other passengers returned their attention to the tedious wait to board the plane. She moved a little closer to the vampiress.

“This is the other part where you’ll need your illusion magic,” she whispered quietly. Serana nodded, pulling the decoy passport out of her bag. As she did so a woman in a navy jacket and a small matching hat perched atop her dark curls ducked out of the door. She stood behind a small podium and first called forth all those who had elected to pay that bit extra for the privilege of standing on the tarmac the longest. Then it was their turn. Once more Serana handed over the decoy passport and before the woman’s face could properly register her puzzlement it was replaced by a blank vacant stare as she waved Serana on past. The door led onto a stairwell which curled around on itself as it descended down to ground level. The sounds of their footsteps echoed around them as they hurried down the stairs to the doors which led outside.

The air was cold but this bothered them little as they crossed the tarmac, following the straggling line of passengers towards the metal behemoth. Two sets of stairs had been erected at the front and back of the plane and it was the frontward of these two flights that they climbed up into the plane. Inside was a long tunnel that could hardly be called spacious as a good portion of it was given over to row upon row of high-backed chairs. Emily led her to one row of these chairs and took a seat at the small round window. Similar windows dotted the entire length of the plane on both sides.

Serana sat down next to Emily and inspected the pocket on the seat in front of her. Inside was a small paper bag, a magazine and a piece of laminated card. She picked up the piece of card, looking first at one side and then the other.

“What’s this for?” she asked, handing it to Emily.

“This is the plane safety card,” Emily replied, “It has on it what you’re supposed to do in case of an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?” Serana asked.

“Losing the oxygen supply, having to make an emergency landing, that sort of thing,” Emily explained, “But don’t worry, air travel is the safest way to travel. Nothing will happen.” She rested a hand on Serana’s arm.

“Alright, I believe you,” she smiled.

They waited as the plane slowly filled and when the stewardesses made their rounds they fastened their seat belts and waited for the announcements to begin, announcements that through her adolescence Emily had practically learned by heart for they varied little from country to country save for the addition of a translation into the country’s native tongue. Serana contented herself with reading through the magazine throughout much of it and only returned her attention to the plane when it began to move and the lights in the cabin dimmed. She had to admit to herself that their was a thread of uncertainty beginning to run through her as the engines in the wings juddered into life and the plane moved out of its docking area. Its movements were slow and ponderous, a stark contrast to the mighty rumblings reverberating through the floor. She got the peculiar sense that the plane was only exerting a fraction of its potential power and that something held them back from it. She looked out of the window where the scenery was slipping slowly by. Her fingers fidgeted absentmindedly with the flight safety card and she found herself glancing down at it.

“You okay, Sera?” Emily asked. Serana nodded.

“Yeah,” she replied, “Just a little nervous is all. What is this going to be like?” Emily thought but found that describing the feelings of take off and flight to be rather difficult. Were she talking to another Earthling she would have compared it to a rollercoaster but this was a bit of Earth tech Serana was unfamiliar with and, besides, it wasn’t quite like that either. Similar but not identical.

“It’s kind of like flying on the broom,” she replied at length, “A little. It doesn’t move as…fluidly as that though. It’s more rigid. It’s pretty fast and…” She paused. “I’m not helping, am I?”

“Not much,” Serana admitted. Emily took her hand.

“Everything will be fine, I promise,” she said.

“Yes, you’re right,” Serana replied, giving Emily’s fingers a squeeze and flashing her a grin which was more like the unflappable vampiress she knew.

The plane taxied out onto the main runway where it came to a halt. This was brief for the moment the plane came to a halt the sound of the engines increased both in pitch and volume. Then it began to move, slowly at first but gaining in speed by the second. Serana found herself pushed back into her seat. A glance at the other passengers told her this was normal and she took a few calming breaths. Faster and faster the scenery whipped past the window. The plane’s nose tilted up and she felt her stomach drop several inches as the ground outside the window dropped sharply away and they soared up into open sky.


	28. The Great British Blood Bank Robbery

By the time the plane evened out, Serana had regained her composure. She glanced over at her companion. It was strange to say the least to feel the same apprehension she must have felt during her first days on Nirn as she felt now. Meanwhile her companion in stark contrast seemed perfectly at ease. This was familiar territory. But just as Emily had managed to adapt to Nirn somewhat, so she was resolved to adapt to Earth.

Presently there was a beep from the panel overhead and the small lit symbol of a seat belt was switched off. Serana contented herself with looking out the window for a time. The height they were travelling at was astonishing and more astonishing still was the speed in which they had climbed to such a height. The clouds were just as Emily described, looking more like islands of white, towering cliffs of snow and great plateaus, forming an alien landscape. In the gaps between the clouds she could see a patchwork of fields and mountains that looked more like molehills. In the distance the land stopped sharply, giving way to a vast expanse of ocean.

Serana took the magazine from the pocket on the seat in front of her and began to flick through it. In it were illustrations of England, their destination. The land was relatively flat in comparison to either Skyrim or Norway and green. The weather looked temperate, for more in keeping with the climate of High Rock. On the next page were pictures of London, the capital. It was just as Emily had described: huge and paved with vast swathes of grey concrete. Its skyline was dominated by numerous skyscrapers and office blocks.

“When we reach Heathrow, what then?” she asked.

“We’ll need to go to Glastonbury,” Emily replied, “But first I think we should go to Porlock Weir, my home and prepare.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing where you live,” said Serana with an amused smile.

“It’s not much to look at, Sera,” Emily laughed, “But it’s home. We’ll be safe there and we can plan our next move.”

“There’s another thing I’ve been thinking of, Em,” said Serana, “We had to drink the last of our supply before we left Norway. What now?” Now Emily leant closer to Serana so none but the vampiress could hear her words.

“Do you remember a long time ago I told you about humans giving blood to heal the sick?” she asked. Serana nodded.

“They take the blood and store it in places rather aptly named blood banks,” she explained, “There’s one not far from us once we land.”

“Though you said we’re the only vampires on Earth,” said Serana, “And even if we weren’t vampires, I doubt they’ll just hand it over.” Emily shook her head.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to slip in without them knowing and take what we need,” said Emily. Serana nodded.

The flight was long and Serana spent much of it looking out of the window. When she was not gazing at the cloudy landscapes she and Emily talked. About England, about Porlock Weir and about Miraak.

Some time later, as Serana was once more gazing out at the new landmass they were passing over after over an hour and a half staring down at the seemingly endless expanse of blue, she heard two beeps from the panel overhead. She’d heard these signals several times throughout the flight and found that they always proceeded some form of announcement over the tannoy.

“We will soon be beginning our descent into London Heathrow, please fasten your seat belts.” Neither Serana nor Emily had undone their seat belts in the first place so instead they waited. The plane began to tilt forwards slightly and the descent began. At times it veered over, tilting and Serana glanced over at the other passengers to see if this was expected. When all around her seemed content to continue fiddling with their electronic devices she relaxed and waited.

They gradually dropped lower and lower in the sky. The patchwork of green fields below grew larger, as did the winding roads of grey between them. Then they were passing over row upon row of houses. The landscape shifted quickly and it appeared to her that they were gaining speed but this, she knew, was just an illusion as their previously lofty height almost made it seem that the plane was suspended unmoving in the sky.

The houses then gave way to the vast airfields of Heathrow. Below them the runway ran. Serana braced herself for the impact. She was not sure exactly what to expect. Would it be smooth like the take-off or would it be like a cart rumbling over rocky ground. The impact was comparatively sharp, then for a short time they bounced back up several feet before touching down again. Immediately the brakes were applied and once more they were pressed back into their seats. At last the plane gradually slowed and began its slow taxi in towards the airport. What followed was a long tedious wait while the steps were brought up to the front and back doors and the passengers slowly began to disembark. Outside it was dark. The sun had never risen, nor had they seen any inkling of it during their flight.

They got up from their seats as soon as the aisle was clear and, after taking their bags from the overhead lockers, walked down the aisle towards the front door. The steps were rickety and they both kept a firm grip on the railings as they descended to the tarmac. They followed the other passengers towards the main building. This brought them to a winding corridor that led through the bulk of the airport. It brought them past the baggage reclaim where passengers were eagerly, and in some cases anxiously, awaiting the return of their luggage. And from there it led to arrivals and the main exit.

“Alright, where to now?” Serana asked, “I presume we’re going to that blood bank you mentioned?” Emily nodded.

“There’s one about eight miles from here,” she replied, “I think our best bet would be to get a taxi.” She pulled out her phone and typed in the number of a local taxi service. Serana waited while she talked to a person she could not see but apparently Emily could hear perfectly well. Serana heard her say, “Yeah, to the Montgomery Hotel,” and, “Hatter.”

“Alright, that’s all set,” she said as she ended the call, “We just have to wait here and the taxi will show up in a minute.”

“Just how many things can you call to you?” Serana asked.

“As many as the phone numbers I can remember off by heart,” Emily replied. The she smiled. “Which admittedly isn’t many.”

A few minutes later a yellow car emblazoned with the local taxi insignia drew up alongside them. A man with white hair and a short white beard leaned out of the window. He wore a peculiar array of attire consisting of a loud Hawaiian shirt under an open leather jacket, bellbottom denim jeans and a pair of sunglasses.

“Emily?” he said.

“That’s right,” Emily replied. She told the taxi driver where they were headed as she and Serana climbed into the back seat of the car.

“Alright then, buckle your seat belts and we’ll be there in two shakes of a scamp’s tail,” said the man as he guided the taxi out of the airport. Neither of them noticed a second taxi pull up a few seconds later.

To say his driving was erratic would be an understatement. He changed lanes, seemingly at random, perhaps even for his own amusement and at least twice Emily noticed that he made a turn without using the proper signals. Serana was notably perturbed by the jerking motion of the car and when she glanced over at Emily and saw she was faring no better this only caused her anxiety to increase. Any second Emily felt certain the police must pull this madman over. Mercifully the journey was a short one and at last the car pulled up outside a night club. Emily had made sure to have the taxi drop them off close to their destination rather than outside the front door.

“Right, here we are, Emily,” said the taxi driver. Emily handed him the money and they both got out of the car, breathing a silent sigh of relief.

“See you around,” said the man. Then he leaned over in Serana’s direction, “Oh, and give me best to old Moley.” Then he wound up his window and drove off.

“Old Moley? What? That…was weird,” said Serana, “Next time we’ll walk or get one of those buses or something.” 

Emily nodded but she was only half-listening. Her brow furrowed.

“Sera,” she said at last, “I never told that taxi driver my name, did I? Not my first name anyway. How did he know? And that driving. That was bonkers.”

“I think he felt he knew us,” replied Serana, “Crazy old man.”

“It’s weird but…I kind of felt like I’d seen him somewhere before too,” said Emily. She shook her head.

“No, that’s not possible,” she said, “Anyway, we should get moving. Fair warning, this could be tricky. Earth security is…difficult to get around.”

“What does it entail?” Serana asked, putting the taxi ride out of her mind for the time being.

“If it’s a heat sensitive burglar alarm we should be fine,” Emily replied, “They’re used to picking up the heat signatures of mortals so shouldn’t be able to detect us. But if it’s actual physical movement…I’m not sure if our invisibility spells will work. That’ll fool people but I’m not sure about machines.”

“Probably still our best bet though,” said Serana. Emily nodded.

“Unfortunately I’ve never been in a blood bank,” she replied, “I don’t know where it’s stored. Probably a storage facility near the back of the building.”

“Will you know it if you see it?” Serana asked.

“I hope so,” Emily replied.

They made their way down the street towards a large white building. Like many Serana had seen it was all flat surfaces and sharp edges. Much of its walls were lined with regularly placed, precisely sized windows. Emily led Serana down a narrow alleyway that ran down the side of the building. They followed the high fence round to the back. It was made from a metal mesh and Emily and Serana ducked into the shadows long enough to fade from sight before climbing hand over hand over the fence. Only the rattle of the metal mesh marked their presence, followed by two sharp thumps as they landed on the far side. Emily led Serana over to a door that opened out onto the small staff parking area they found themselves in. The area was lit by a single pale yellow lamp by the door. Emily swore softly under her breath.

“No good,” she whispered, “This is a combination lock. Lockpicks won’t work on this.”

“What then?” Serana asked. Emily didn’t answer immediately but looked around. Her eyes alighted on a window far above their heads that was open slightly. Likely an employee had opened it earlier in the day to let in some fresh air and had neglected to close it before departing for home.

“Up there,” Emily replied. Serana looked up and spotted the window.

“Can you give me a boost up?” Emily continued. What followed was a decidedly tricky operation as neither could see the other but in the end Emily managed to find her companion who then hefted her up towards the window. She scrabbled at the window ledge and heard a hushed whisper of, “Watch it,” from below. She got out an apology as she pushed the window open, squirmed her way around so her legs were dangling into the empty room and looked over her shoulder. The room was large and looked to be a laboratory of some description judging by the beakers, retorts and the centrifuge standing in the corner. The floor was some six feet below her but a table would make for a handy halfway point. She turned back and reached down.

“Take my hand,” she whispered into the empty parking area.

“Easier said than done,” Serana whispered back. Emily waited for a moment. Then she felt the vampiress’ fingers graze her hand before firmly grasping it. Emily pulled back and heaved her companion up towards the window. She felt Serana’s breath on her cheek and then the vampiress moved past her, pulling herself through the open window and they both dropped onto the table.

“I think this is a lab,” Emily said as they got down off the table, “They probably prepare the blood for transfer here. The storage area will likely be in another room.” She felt Serana take her hand once more.

“Right, then we’d better get moving,” she said, “And we’d better stick together. It would be easy for us to lose one another like this.”

“Agreed,” Emily replied.

And so they slipped silently over to the door. Emily glanced out through the small window at the corridor beyond. There was no sign of movement and many of the lights had been switched off for the night. Or perhaps, she reasoned, they would light up if they detected movement. If that was so, it would put their invisibility spells to the test. Emily slowly inched the door open and they slipped out. Almost as soon as they reached the centre of the corridor they were suddenly bathed in a bright white light. They both froze and Serana felt Emily grip her hand tightly. They flattened themselves against the wall and waited for several minutes.

“I guess we don’t fool the lights,” Emily whispered, “But I don’t hear any alarms. I think we’re okay.” Serana squeezed her fingers gently in acknowledgement and they moved silently down the corridor. The lights overhead lit their way, flickering into life as they drew within range. They stopped by each door they came to and Emily peered in.

At last she whispered to Serana, “This is it.” They pushed the door open. A red light up in the corner of the room flicked on for a split second before going dark as they closed the door behind them. Lining the far wall were large cold storage units. They crossed the room and Emily opened the first one they came to. A waft of chilled air blew into their faces, ruffling their hair. The interior of the cold storage unit was made up of several drawers and in each of these were squidgy plastic bags filled with red liquid, each labelled and marked.

“Okay, how many should we take?” she asked Serana.

“Better take about twenty,” Serana replied, “Maybe twenty-five. That’s how many days we have left after all.” Emily nodded.

“Okay, but we’ll only take the ones marked, ‘O,’” she said.

“Why’s that?” Serana asked.

“O’s the most common blood type,” Emily explained, “It’s the least likely one to suffer a shortage.” Serana helped Emily pull out the large red bags and deposit them into their bag. Suddenly an alarm blared throughout the room. One of the bags fell from Serana’s grasp and made a soft squelp as it landed on the floor. They whirled around, the shock causing them to lapse back into visibility as they looked up at the small device in the corner whose bright light was flashing, bathing the room in a glow as red as the blood they had pilfered. It was impossible to tell where the alarm was coming from. It seemed to come from everywhere at once and the deafening cacophony made them squeeze their eyes shut with pain. It dulled every sense and they merely stood there for several moments. Serana was the first to snap out of the spell of stupefaction the alarms had cast and she grabbed Emily. They raced for the door and crashed through it, all semblance of stealth gone. By now they could not remember in which direction the exit lay so they chose a direction at random and ran. Emily glanced into each door they passed but saw nothing familiar. There were offices, more storage rooms and labs with wholly different setups to the one they had entered by.

They dodged around another corner and found themselves at a junction. Emily quickly scanned the corridors. Then she grabbed Serana’s hand.

“This way,” she said and off they ran again, followed by the ghastly sounds of the alarm.

At last Emily spotted a door ahead of them that was slightly ajar. They hurried through it and Emily breathed a sigh of relief as she caught sight of the open window they had entered by. They scrambled up onto the table and out of the window, dropping down onto the ground on the far side. As Emily got to her feet she saw that they were not alone. Standing around them in a semi-circle were several men and women clad in navy uniforms. One of them put a small device to his lips.

“Officer Clayton to dispatch, we have two Caucasian females attempting to steal blood from the blood bank, over.” The response must have been one of disbelief for he continued, “Yeah, that’s what I said. Blood.”

“Sera,” said Emily in a hoarse whisper.

“You, no talking, you’re under arrest,” said one of the women. Serana’s eyes darted from the officers who were closing in on them to the eyes of her companion.

“Sera, invisible,” Emily whispered urgently. A few of the officers let out a yell of surprise as the two women vanished before their eyes and the transceiver dropped from the lead officer’s shaking hand.

“Spread out,” he ordered quickly, recovering his nerve. What followed was utter chaos with all the officers running off in the direction they felt the two women were likely to have gone in. Emily dodged between them as they thundered past. Once more she and Serana could not see one another and Emily felt a surge of panic run through her. She hurried over toward the fence and watched the confused police officers. Suddenly a figure collided with her and at first she feared one of the officers had stumbled into her. But then she felt hands find her face and Serana whispered in her ear. “Found you.” Then her hands took hold of hers and they ran the rest of the way to the fence, throwing themselves up at the mesh, grasping on and scrambling for the top. The rattling mesh attracted the attention of one of the officers and he called to his fellows before pursuing them. Serana reached the top and was about to drop down onto the far side when Emily let out a yell. The officer had managed to grab a hold of her leg.

“I don’t know who or what you are but you’re under arrest,” shouted the officer. Emily kicked out but the officer held firm. Serana reached down in the direction her companion’s shouts were coming from. Emily yelled again but this time in pain and Serana realised with a surge of guilt that she had grabbed a fistful of the Earthling’s hair.

Emily felt her other hand grasp her under her left arm and pull. She kicked out again and this time her leg came free. But the momentum from her own efforts and those of her companion to free her sent them tumbling back over the fence. They landed in a tangled heap on the far side. The officer shouted to his colleagues before sending a series of barked orders their way that they had no intention of following. Emily was the first to move.

“Are you alright?” she asked of her companion.

“I’ll feel much better if you get off me,” came Serana’s muffled response. Emily scrambled hurriedly off of Serana and helped her to her feet. They hurried away from the building and away from the police presence. They kept going, past several streets until the sounds of shouting faded away and all that could be heard was their footsteps on the pavement. Only then did they allow themselves to come to a halt and fade back into sight.

“We need to get out of here,” said Emily, “They’ve got our descriptions. That’ll be all over town before long. We need to get to Porlock Weir. We can take shelter there. Maybe a disguise.”

“How far is Porlock Weir?” Serana asked.

“About one hundred and fifty miles,” Emily replied, “I know you’re not keen on the idea but we’ll need to take another taxi. It’ll be faster.”

“Can’t we get a bus?” Serana asked.

“Not many run at this time of night,” Emily explained, taking her phone from her pocket. Serana sighed. “Alright then,” she replied.

But mercifully the taxi driver who greeted them this time from his taxi window was a perfectly ordinary man in his middle fifties, dressed in sensible attire to suit the current weather. Emily collapsed onto the back seat with Serana and told the driver where they were headed. Serana closed her eyes for a moment, running a hand over her face. She felt quite certain she’d have some new bruises come the morning.

“I think next time we’ll just go hunting,” she said. Emily groaned an affirmation.

The streetlights and buildings whipped past the window and Emily leant her head against the door. She could not help flinching each time she caught sight of a police car veering in and out of the side roads and when Serana noticed she slipped her hand into Emily’s and Emily gave her fingers a grateful squeeze. She breathed a sigh of relief when they left Heathrow behind and joined the motorway. Serana had never seen so many cars, vans and other vehicles before in all her thousand-odd years of unlife. They were flanked on either side by streams of cars, camper vans, and several big vehicles comparable to a bus in size but without the multitude of windows along their sides. Their sides were instead emblazoned with logos and large attention-grabbing writing. Emily called these strange vehicles trucks. Emily, now that they were outside the city limits, had relaxed somewhat and now rested her head against the vampiress’ shoulder. They were both rather grateful that this taxi driver was not one for talking and they were left to pass the journey quietly.

It was coming up to four in the morning when the taxi entered the village of Porlock. Porlock Weir was just a short distance past that and Emily sat up and took note of the familiar surroundings.

“Just straight on here, please,” she said to the taxi driver. The taxi driver complied, pulling onto a lane which led down towards the coast.

Porlock Weir consisted of a harbour flanked by numerous red brick buildings and thatched cottages. Standing in the harbour were the masts of several ships which stuck up like the trunks of spindly trees. On the pebbled beaches Serana spotted several smaller vessels which had been turned upside down to keep them from drifting out with the tide. On the outskirts the red brick gave way to more pastel shades.

“Just here, please,” said Emily.

The taxi came to a halt outside a pastel blue bungalow with a slate roof. Emily dropped the money into the waiting hand.

“Here we are,” she said as they got out of the car, “Home sweet home.”

The taxi drove off and Emily and Serana walked up the weed choked path to the front door. The lawn was now more akin to a jungle and when Emily pushed open the door they had to step over a sizeable pile of newspapers and junk mail. Emily kicked the pile to one side before closing the door. A year’s worth of dust had accumulated on every surface and she was dismayed to see that in her absence some new tenants in the form of spiders had moved in. Their webs hung from the light fixtures and adorned the corners of each room.

Serana followed Emily into the little sitting room where they dumped their bags.

“Sorry it’s in such a state,” said Emily as she sat down on the sofa and a cloud of dust erupted around her. She sneezed. She looked around her dusty home. For months she had yearned for it after leaving Earth, remembering it with fondness but now it looked, to her, decidedly dingy and shabby.

Serana crossed the room to the mantelpiece and blew the dust off several ornaments. They were dragons sculpted from clay and painted in various brilliant hues which were marred slightly by the grey layer of dust.

“I think it’s lovely, Em,” Serana replied.

“It’s no castle,” said Emily. Serana laughed.

“Em, that castle was cold and empty,” replied Serana. Emily looked up. “And in case you didn’t notice it was crumbling into ruin. I think your home is lovely. It just needs a little dusting, that’s all.” She crossed over to the window and drew the curtains on the lightening sky.

“And we have quite a few hours to kill,” she crossed back to the Earthling and held out her hand to her, “What do you think?”

“I think, you’re on,” smiled Emily, taking the vampiress’ hand, “Oh, but before we do we should decant our pilfered drink into some bottles. After all we went through to get it, it would be a shame if it went off.”


	29. Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My

After decanting the pilfered blood into several bottles which they stowed away in their bags they closed all the curtains in the house and set to work. The dust rose in clouds under the onslaught of dusters, brushes and the old vacuum cleaner Emily pulled from a cupboard in one corner of the small kitchen.

“Do Earthlings do anything for themselves?” Serana asked, smiling and quirking an eyebrow as Emily plugged in the vacuum.

“Unless it’s something fun, not unless they can help it,” Emily replied. The vacuum had evidently seen better days as for all the noise it made it didn’t seem to be lifting much dust. They started in the living room, gradually turning it back into a liveable space. Emily sorted through the newspapers, glancing at the headlines. The cliff-notes of her findings showed that the US was now being led by a dingbat with bad hair, Britain was still in the halfway house between leaving and remaining and there’d been another royal wedding. She dumped all but the most recent in the wastepaper basket, resolving to check through them for more clues concerning this lethargy mentioned on the news while they were in Norway.

Once the living room was cleaned they moved on to the kitchen and the small bathroom and from there to Emily’s room.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said as she pulled the duvet off the bed and dumped it straight into the wash basket, “I’m afraid I never was one for housework.”

“And apparently none of that’s changed since you came to Nirn,” Serana joked. Emily laughed as, between them, they got the sheets and pillow cases stripped from the bed. The surfaces were dusted, the floors swept and clean linens put on the bed. By the time they were done the clock in the hallway chimed midday. They collapsed back on the bed.

“Place has probably never been so tidy,” Emily smiled as she rolled over, “Thanks for the help.”

“It’ll certainly make a good base camp for us while we’re here,” Serana replied, “You said something earlier about looking through those newspapers. Did you find anything?”

“Apparently it started a week or two ago, around the time we would have come through the portal. Perhaps a bit after,” Emily replied.

“That surely can’t be a coincidence,” said Serana. Emily shook her head.

“That’s what I thought,” she replied, “And there’s something else. Two strange shadowy shapes were seen flying over the village of Beddgelert.”

“Where’s that?” Serana asked.

“It’s in Wales, that’s North of here, about two hundred and fifty miles away,” Emily replied, “Might be nothing, might be just another loch ness monster. But we’d best be sure.”

“They could be dragons,” Serana replied.

“Unlikely,” Emily replied. Then she paused, “But I can’t say it’s impossible.”

“Where should we go first?” Serana asked.

“Glastonbury, it’s a lot nearer,” Emily replied, “Then we’ll go up towards Beddgelert. The best route’s through the city of Birmingham.”

As midday gave way to afternoon they had a look around the house for anything that might be useful in refilling their supply of arrows. Paintbrushes and a set of wooden stakes used for gardening recovered from the adjoining garage were repurposed. They fletched them with a collection of feathers Emily had gathered on her walks down by the seaside and with a few pulled from the old cushions on the sofa. A collection of flint pebbles from similar walks near the cliffs at Dover were sharpened to a keen edge and affixed to the tips of the wooden shafts.

“Okay, that should do it,” Emily said as she tipped the last of the handmade arrows into the quiver, “We’d better make these last and use our magic wherever we can. With any luck, we won’t have to fight until we find Miraak.”

“I still don’t feel right without my dagger,” Serana replied, touching the place at her hip where her scabbard once rested, “You’re sure we can’t take a couple of these knives with us?” She gestured to the knife block where several knives of different sorts and sizes resided.

“I’m certain, police would be on our tail before we got out of Porlock,” Emily replied, “No Earthlings carry blades unless they’re out to kill someone. With the bow and arrows they might just think we’re off to a comic book convention or a fancy dress party.”

“Alright, magic and arrows it is then,” Serana said ruefully.

“And speaking of fancy dress, we’d better see about those disguises I mentioned earlier,” said Serana.

“What did you have in mind?” Serana asked.

Emily led Serana over to the closet that stood in one corner of her room. It was an old fashioned wooden affair, intricately carved and looked as though it had seen a fair amount of wear. Emily pulled open the doors and began to rummage through the clothes suspended from metal hooks lined up along the wooden bar at the top of the interior.

“I’m thinking our best bet would be to dress up as a couple of goths,” Emily said as she pulled out an odd looking piece of attire that looked to be corset and black lace top combined into one item of clothing. The cord that in a functioning corset would have been used to tighten the garment looked to be simply for show here. Despite her inability to blush Emily gave a good impression of doing so as she looked at the top. “One of my cringier phases when I was a teenager,” she said, “I thought I was sooo “goffik” when I wore this crap.”

“Phases?” Serana asked.

“I don’t know about Nirn teens but Earthling teens go through a few…stages in growing up,” Emily explained, “One of them is particular fashion trends. Emo, goth, punk.” She counted them off on her fingers, “I think I must’ve gone through all three at some point. I wore this stuff when I was about fifteen.” She looked appraisingly at the black pants adorned with numerous buckles and chains which seemed to serve as little function as the corset. “Thankfully I haven’t grown all that much since then so these should still fit.”

“And if you think so little of these clothes, why do you think we should wear them?” Serana asked.

“Because one of the things that some goths like to do is where colour contacts in their eyes to make them appear red and some like to wear prosthetic fangs,” Emily explained.

“So they’ll think nothing of us if they do happen to spot our…differences from mortals,” Serana finished.

“Precisely,” Emily replied, “My only concern is finding you something to wear. You’re…quite a bit taller than me after all.”

The trousers, it was true, would not fit the vampiress and the long sleeved tops looked more like three-quarter length sleeved on her but Emily found her a black T-shirt with the name of a band often liked by those in the goth scene emblazoned across the front. It was a little short in the body but would pass well enough for a midriff bearing top. She also found a black skirt and to complete the look they each put on a black choker. Serana looked at herself in the mirror.

“Not the look I would have chosen,” she conceded. She turned to the Earthling who had since applied some black eyeliner and lipstick that she found in an old makeup bag hanging in the wardrobe.

“Can’t believe I used to dress like this,” she muttered as she put away the makeup, “But it will disguise us at least.”

“My own mother wouldn’t recognise me,” Serana replied. She tugged at the band T-shirt. After a few moments she noticed her companion had gone oddly silent.

“Is something the matter?” she asked. A moment’s pause. “Are you thinking about your parents?” Emily nodded.

“Where do they live?” Serana asked, “Perhaps we could visit them tonight?” Emily shook her head.

“Miraak comes first,” she said, “My parents live just outside Weston-Super-Mare. That would be too far out of our way. Maybe when we go up towards Beddgelert. Maybe.” She took her phone out of her pocket. “I thought about phoning them earlier,” she continued, “But I think it would be better if I spoke to them face to face.” Serana rested a hand on the Earthling’s shoulder. Emily looked up at her.

“I’m alright, really,” she said, giving Serana what she hoped to be a reassuring smile, “Come on, there’s still a few things we have to pack.”

As night fell Emily led Serana towards the adjoining garage. It was a short squat building, huddled between the house and the white wooden fence. She pushed open the weatherbeaten old door. The pale moonlight fell across the sleek curved metal of the bonnet and reflected off the windscreen. The car was a small model, modest in appearance and blue in colour.

“I take it this is how we’ll be travelling tonight?” Serana asked, running her hand over the bonnet.

“This is how,” Emily replied as she opened the garage door. They got into the car. Emily took out a small key and put it into a slot at the base of the steering wheel. She turned the key. There was a shudder, a whir. Then silence. She tried again with much the same result. She swore softly under her breath.

“Something wrong?” Serana asked.

“The battery must be flat,” Emily replied, “Hang on a second.” She got out and made her way around to the front of the car. Serana watched from the passenger seat as she opened the bonnet. Serana got out of the car and followed the earthling around to the front.

“You have a plan?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Emily replied, “That’s the battery there.” She pointed to a black box with two knobs, one red and one black, situated on top. “It needs a good jolt of electricity. I think I might be able to jumpstart it with my magic.”

“You be careful,” Serana cautioned, “I don’t want you burning yourself to a crisp.” Emily smiled.

“I’ll be careful,” she replied as she retrieved two cables from the boot of the car. Each were tipped with clamps at either end. She unscrewed the knobs on the battery and clamped one end of each cable to them. She then lay the other ends flat on the concrete floor of the garage and took a step back. She readied lightning on her palms and directed it at the ends of the cables lying on the ground, aiming for the metal clamps. Sparks erupted from the clamps attached to the car battery and Emily slackened up on the power emanating from her finger tips.

After several minutes she stopped and unhooked the clamps, screwing the battery caps back on.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” she said as she stored the jumper cables back in the boot. The tips of the metal clamps were noticeably blackened and she had her doubts on whether the same trick would work again. They got back in the car and Emily turned the key. This time the engine roared into life. Emily flicked on the lights and guided the car out of the garage and onto the road.

“Alright, Glastonbury, here we come,” she said.

“How long before you’ll have to charge it up again like that?” Serana asked.

“Hopefully never,” Emily replied, “Now that it’s going, driving it will charge it up. Lucky I must’ve stopped for petrol though before I took off for Norway.”

They drove out of Porlock Weir and took the road that led them away from the coast. Due to the lateness of the hour, there was little traffic on the roads until they reached the A39. Two lanes wide with a barred section in between to separate the traffic took them past country houses. Many were separated from the road by high wooden fences. It brought them through the small coastal town of Minehead. They passed by row upon row of red and white brick houses, each with a sizeable garden.

“All these human settlements you’ve taken me to,” mused Serana as she looked out of the window, “They’re all very built up. Are there any cottages? Like ours?”

“As a matter of fact there is,” Emily replied, “Out in the forest not far from here there’s a little cottage. Quite a bit smaller than ours actually. And a good bit more overgrown. I used to go there during the holidays.” Emily paused for a moment. “With Maylene. She liked to paint, you see. Said the woods inspired her.”

“Do you…still have feelings for her?” Serana asked tentatively. Emily shook her head.

“No, no, just…pleasant memories,” Emily replied, “Y’know, from before she showed her true colours. When everything looked like it was going to turn out rosy.” She took a right onto the main road that led out of Minehead. 

It was a little before midnight when they entered the town limits of Glastonbury. Emily parked the car near the town centre. In the distance they could see the Tor, a lofty hill on which stood the ruin of St Michael’s tower. The stonework that made it up was sound but it was only partially rebuilt and possessed no roof. Emily pressed the button on the key fob, locking the door.

“Alright, let’s have a look around,” said Emily as she stowed the keys in her pocket.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Serana asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Emily replied, looking around at the empty streets, at the signs swinging and creaking faintly in the breeze. She scratched her head.

“Let’s see if we can find someone,” she continued, “Maybe they can tell us more about this lethargy.” Serana looked around.

“I hope you know where to look,” she replied, “The whole place looks pretty deserted.”

“We’ll need to head into the centre of town,” said Emily. She checked her watch. “There’ll still be some pubs open. There’ll be people in there alright. Kicking out time’s not for another hour.”

Serana followed the Earthling down a street much wider than the rest. The houses here stood poker straight, not like the sloping affairs seen in Porlock Weir and other coastal villages. They were built of sturdy looking brick and many of them were whitewashed. The streets were lit by lanterns set at the top of lofty iron poles. These lanterns, however, possessed no candle and instead burned with a steady orange glow which gave out more light than any candle Serana had ever known. They saw cars and vans parked at the side of the road, the lamplight glimmering on their bonnets and windscreens. In the distance they heard the bells of St John the Baptist’s church chime midnight. 

Emily led Serana to a two storey whitewashed building like its neighbours. It had red rimmed windows and two sets of doors. One was evidently the entrance with a small semi-circular window situated just above it while the other looked more like a set of barn doors, made from black wooden slats. The pub’s name was emblazoned in gold above this door. Emily pushed the smaller of the two doors open. Inside the atmosphere was warm but, Emily noticed, a good deal quieter than expected. At one end of the room was a long wooden bar lined with various pulleys to dispense the various varieties of liquor. Hanging above were row upon row of glasses positioned for ease of access by the bartender. Behind the bar were several coolers, each lit from the inside and lined with cans and bottles of various shapes and sizes. A small television situated to one side of the bar displayed a live footage of a football match but Emily quickly realised that none of the patrons were paying attention. A goal was scored onscreen but not so much as a single cheer was raised among the pensive crowd.

“Odd,” Emily said quietly under her breath as they took a seat at the bar. The barman was the only one who seemed to have any life in him. He was a cleanshaven man in his middle thirties with thick curly hair.

“A pint of bitter please,” said Emily once she’d got the man’s attention, “And…” Here she turned to Serana.

“Just an ale,” Serana added.

“That’ll be seven pounds, thirty,” replied the bartender as Emily pulled a ten pound note out of her pocket and handed it across the bar. The man took the note and rang it through the till, handing back the change before pulling two glasses down from the rack above the bar.

“Seems rather quiet in here tonight,” Emily said, trying to sound casual as she looked around at the full bar.

“Quiet ain’t the word for it,” said the bartender as he filled the first of the glasses with the amber fluid and passed it along to Serana. “Eerie is more like it.”

“How so?” Emily asked.

“Haven’t you noticed?” asked the bartender, “The big game’s being broadcast tonight and no one seems to care. See him over there?” He pointed to a heavyset man with a bald head. Emily glanced over in the man’s direction. He seemed to be mouthing something under his breath but there was only him at the table and Emily could see no sign of a phone or any similar device.

“He’s one of my regulars,” continued the barman, “Never misses a match. Tonight it’s a league match between the Bristol Rovers and the Wycombe Wanderers. Usually it doesn’t matter to him whether it’s a live match, a re-run or archived footage. He goes mental for it. And just look at him tonight. Look at them all.” He gestured to several of the other patrons who were likewise still. Some were staring into their pint glasses as though the answers to life’s greatest questions resided there. Others were doing as the bald man was, mouthing words not even Emily and Serana could catch.

“When did all this start?” Serana asked.

“A couple of weeks ago or thereabouts,” replied the bartender, “I tell you, it’s got something to do with this lethargy they’ve been going on about just lately.”

“Lethargy?” Emily asked, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, you must have heard about it, it’s been all over the news,” replied the bartender.

“I’m afraid we’ve been out of the country for the past month,” Emily replied, “We’re only just back. What’s causing it?”

“That’s just it, they don’t know,” said the barman. 

There was a scraping of chairs as two men got up and beckoned to a third before sloping out of the bar, leaving one of the tables empty. The bartender turned from this momentary disturbance back to the two women.

“It just started all of a sudden, there was no warning,” he explained, “They just sit there staring into space or mumbling to themselves.”

“What do they mumble?” Emily asked.

“What difference does it make what they mumble?” asked the bartender.

“Well, it might give some clue or other, do they not mumble anything in particular?” Emily asked by means of a reply.

“I…well, I can only say what I heard old Hopkins muttering last night when he was in with his wife,” said the barman after some thought, scratching at his chin, “Normally they fight like a couple of strays but that night they were so quiet. Except he…what was it he was saying?” He thought for a moment.

“Me rack,” he said, “Our eyes were blinded and now through him we see. Or something like that anyway.”

“Miraak?” Emily repeated, “You’re sure that’s what he said?” The man nodded.

“Yes, at least, I think so,” he replied, “They murmur it so quiet. But I’m almost certain that’s what he said. I reckon it’s the name of some new hallucinogen. It would certainly explain their odd behaviour.”

“Have the police done anything about it?” Emily asked. The man shook his head.

“Apart from a few spot drug tests, no,” he replied, “But either they get them tested too late or this new drug doesn’t show up in their tests because they all come back negative.”

“Do they know where exactly this all started?” Emily asked. The barman shook his head.

“Not really,” he replied, “The first case was reported up near the Tor. A gang of youths. Probably going up there to do this…Miraak stuff. I’m afraid that’s all I can say.”

“Well, thanks for telling us all the same,” said Emily as she took a draught from the pint glass.

“I hope whatever it is passes soon,” he said, “It hasn’t been great for business I can tell you.” With that he returned to cleaning the pint glasses.

“What do you think?” Emily asked quietly of Serana.

“I think…we should go check out this Tor,” Serana replied, “Where is it?”

“On the edge of town, the big hill we saw from where we parked the car,” said Emily.

“Right, let’s go while we’ve still got the moonlight on our side,” Serana replied, downing the last of the pint and setting the empty glass down on the bar. Emily nodded and followed suit.

They left the bar and retraced their steps back towards the car.

Emily hesitated, something catching the corner of her eye as she pulled the keys from her pocket.

“What is it?” Serana asked. Emily looked around. She shook her head.

“Nothing,” she replied, “I just thought I saw something. Must’ve just been a cat or something.” But as she got into the car and put the key into the ignition she couldn’t shake the notion that someone or something was watching them.

They drove out of the town centre and followed a long winding road that brought them up out of Glastonbury. Ahead of them, silhouetted against the light of the full moon, was the Tor and the ruins of St Michael’s Tower. The hill on which the tower was built had a ridged appearance and a dirt track led up it to the tower.

Emily and Serana parked the car in a car park at the foot of the hill and made the rest of the journey on foot. As they reached the summit they heard the church bells below chime one. As they drew near to the tower Emily came to a halt. She had visited the tower on several occasions and so she was familiar with the single stone structure towering high into the sky. What she was not familiar with was the webbed structure that spread out from the archway that made up the entrance. It snaked from here around the building and sent several tendrils of stone down to the earth at the foot of the tower. As Emily’s eyes adjusted to the sight she spotted several hunched figures working away at the base of the structure and caught the strains of the whispered mantra.

“Here at his tower he has claimed,” they intoned, “Now we continue to claim in his name. Miraak.”

“It’s just like the stones on Solstheim,” said Serana, looking up at the structure. Emily hurried over to one of the figures. He wore a university jacket and tracksuit bottoms. His face was gaunt and Emily could only guess at how long he’d toiled at the stone. Just like those on Solstheim, he was oblivious to the presence of the two vampiresses.

“You know what you have to do, right?” Serana asked. Emily nodded.

“Yes, let’s just hope it works here,” she replied. Then she drew herself up, staring straight at the heart of the webbed structure.

GOL

Just as it had done on Solstheim, yellow tendrils of light erupted from her mouth, encircling the stone. It glowed with a sickly yellow light, growing brighter by the second as it spewed out from the cracks in the stonework. There was a rumbling in the earth below them and the stone structure trembled before shattering into hundreds of shards. The people working at the stone took several shaking steps back from the rubble, looking all around them. They looked at the two strangers before them.

_She’s here!_

“Are you alright?” Emily asked of the dazed crowd forming around them. One woman nodded, rubbing at her head as though a lingering headache still plagued her.

“You should all get back to town,” Emily continued, “It’s gone midnight.”

Before anyone could reply there was a loud rumble overhead as of an encroaching storm but when they looked up there was not a cloud in the sky. What they did see, however, sent a chill down there spine. It was a large single green eye surrounded by an inky blackness far darker than the night sky. It did not belong to the demon of fate but to another. Several of the helpless crowd pointed up in a mixture of fear and awe. Emily drew closer to Serana as a wind picked up. The crowd stood in stupefaction and then the eye spoke.

“Laat Dovahkiin,” it said in a voice that echoed and seemed to shake the very hill on which they stood, “Horvutah Laat Dovahkiin.” Emily felt a presence permeate the space around her. It was heavy, stifling and the crowd shook as it passed through each one of them. Then, as they watched, they stepped forwards in a single movement, their eyes glowing green and bright.

“Laat Dovahkiin.” It began as a whisper, a murmur, but grew in volume until all the crowd were chanting it. They took a step back as the crowd advanced. Their eyes darted from left to right along the length of the crowd. There must have been at least twenty, maybe thirty of them. With a sinking feeling Emily realised they were closing in from all sides. It would be mere seconds until they were overwhelmed.

Emily grabbed a hold of Serana’s hand, wheeling around so that the hill and the path they had come up by lay before them. Then she shouted. The force of her shout caused those before her to bend double like blades of grass before a gale. Taking advantage of this they plunged off through the parting in the crowd and raced off down the hill.

Once ponderously slow the crowd now gave chase with full vigour, following the retreating vampiresses. A cry of, ‘Laat Dovahkiin,” followed them down the hill to the car park. The crowd were little more than thirty feet behind them when they reached the car. Emily fumbled in her pockets for the keys. They were quickly closing in and Serana readied lightning upon her palms in preparation, ready to leap atop the vehicle to a place of relative safety and haul the Earthling up after her. But then Emily found the key and unlocked the car. They piled in and Emily jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared into life and Serana had barely enough time to close the door before the little car was hurtling off down the road towards the town.

“Bloody hell,” said Emily as she looked briefly over her shoulder at the receding crowd, “It was never like this on Solstheim.”

“He’s got more influence over the people here,” Serana replied, gripping the door tightly in one hand, “He’s on the same plane of existence as them.”

“In other words, who knows what he’s capable of here,” said Emily as she took a shaky turn off the main road, nearly clipping a lamppost in her haste. They drove back towards the town centre.

“We can’t stay here,” she said as they rounded the next bend, “It’ll only be a matter of time before…” She stopped and in the same instant she slammed on the brakes, almost causing Serana to hit her head off the dashboard. They stared ahead of them. Standing in the road were scores of people. Emily recognised the bald man from the bar among their numbers.

“Oh no,” said Emily quietly. The engine still thrummed as she looked around. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Serana replied, “Drive through them. Let them dive out of the way when they realise we’re not stopping.”

“We can’t do that,” said Emily, “You saw how they were at the tower? They’re not in control of themselves. Miraak’s not going to care if one or two of them get squished. These are innocent people.”

“Then how are we going to escape?” Serana demanded of her companion. Emily looked around but no simple answer sprung to mind.

Suddenly they heard a thud. It was followed by another and another.

“What was that?” Emily asked. Serana shook her head. Mingled with the thuds came shouts and roars, squeals and stampings. A mingled cacophony was coming up the main street. Hurriedly Serana and Emily piled out of the car as one of the crowds began to hurriedly disperse. Shouts and screams went up from the crowd, several of whom seemed to have regained themselves in response to the fear that now gripped them. A loud trumpet punctuated the night air. Emily’s eyes widened as she recognised the sound.

“That…that was an elephant,” she said in disbelief.

“A what?” said Serana.

“A baldy mammoth,” Emily replied. Then, mingled with a second trumpet came a deep throaty roar and several rounds of high pitched yelping. “They…they must have escaped from a zoo. Miraak’s got the animals under his control too. That means lions.”

“And tigers?” added Serana.

“And bears,” Emily gulped, “Oh my.”

And then they saw it, large and grey, a great bull elephant broke through the crowds, flanked by several lions and the graceful long necks of two giraffes. But sitting astride the bull elephant’s neck was not Miraak but the strange old man they had encountered in the taxi no more than two days previous. His loud Hawaiian shirt showed up plainly atop his great grey steed and he hollered over the crowd as he caught sight of them.

“Well, if it isn’t me two favourite vampires,” he cried. Emily and Serana stood transfixed as he steered his wild charge toward them. “Ye wouldn’t be needing a hand, would ye?” he asked as he neared them. The lions, all wild eyes and teeth circled them and Emily and Serana backed closer together.

“Down boys,” cried the man and the lions retreated. Then he reached down and seized Emily by the scruff of her jacket, pulling her up alongside him. Next Serana scrambled up after her.

“Where to?” he asked jovially as though he were merely taking them on a jaunt into town.

“Anywhere but here,” Emily replied breathlessly.

“Anywhere but here it is,” said the man, “Onwards. Come on, grey beauty. Onward. We’ve got places to go and things to do. Can’t waste any more time hanging around here. Onward.” And with that the bull elephant gave a loud trumpeting call and plunged off down the main street. Crowds dove out of its way in a panic, cowering in doorways and diving through any window that offered to escape it and its wild entourage as it left the town of Glastonbury behind.


	30. Unbound

Emily and Serana looked over at the man sitting quite calmly astride the neck of the great bull elephant. He swung his legs idly as he turned from the road ahead to look back at them.

"Dude, how on earth did you know we're vampires?" said Emily in disbelief, "And….and.." She looked down at the wild animals cavorting about the legs of the elephant, "Where did you get all these animals? Just who are you?" The old man laughed, a much more youthful laugh than his outward appearance described.

"Dude?" he laughed, "I love it." He slapped his knee as his laughter dissolved into repressed chuckles. "You may call me Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, at your service." Here he bowed gracefully from his seated position. This moment of distinguished calm was short-lived however as a grin spread across his face. "As for the animals?" he continued, "I appropriated them from some place called Longleat. They were just sittin' around, not doin' anything interesting. They were callin' to me. Sheo, Uncle Sheo, they said, take us on an adventure. We tire of sitting here."

"You're a Daedric Prince?" said Emily, a note of disbelief evident.

"Ha, did ya never hear the saying, don't judge an Elytra by its ichor?" Sheogorath replied, "I am that, immortal."

"But how did you get here?" Serana asked, "We're here because another of your brethren couldn't come here and take care of his own business."

"Ya mean Hermy?" chuckled Sheogorath, "That oozin' old blob always was too smart for his own good. He was so busy overthinking things that he overlooked the most simple solution of all. Just follow you through the portal as I did." He looked around. "And on that note, you might want to get better sentries guarding that thing. It was far too easy to slip past them. Far too easy."

"But how did you?" Emily asked, "There was no one with us when we emerged in the Norwegian mountains."

"That's what you thought, Emily," said Sheogorath, "When you're a Daedric Prince you needn't trouble yourself with anything so inconvenient as a physical form. Now," he turned back to the road, "If that be all the questions you have, we should be on our way." With that he urged the elephant on. By now they had left Glastonbury behind and were now pushing out in a North-easterly direction. The road they were travelling took them out past farmland and a patchwork of fields stretching as far as the eye could see. Cars coming in the opposite direction were a frequent sight, braking hard and skidding to a halt when they caught sight of the Mad god's menagerie. They cowered in their cars, watching as the lions with their sharp teeth and flashing eyes sloped past the windows, followed by the yelping spotted hides of hyenas and the long graceful legs of the giraffes.

"Well, at least we know what Miraak's up to now?" said Emily.

"If only we knew where he was," Serana replied. Emily looked at her in puzzlement.

"Glastonbury," she said, "Sera, you saw that eye."

"Which is exactly why I'm pretty sure that's exactly where he wasn't," Serana replied calmly.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to explain that bit to me," said Emily.

"That eye was a physical manifestation of a scrying spell, that is, a spell to allow you to see goings on from a great distance away," Serana explained.

"Then, that begs the question as to why he didn't just show up himself," Emily replied.

"Perhaps he's scared of us," suggested Serana.

"Wishful thinking there, I'm afraid," Emily replied, "He's got forbidden knowledge at his back. What has he to fear?"

"Then, perhaps he simply wanted to avoid getting his hands dirty," said Serana, "It would hardly be the first time a necromancer or conjurer got his followers to do his bidding."

"So, we need to find where exactly he's operating from," said Emily.

"We probably had our best bet tonight," said Serana, "Though with the amount of people he had under his control, we weren't facing the best odds."

"I guess we're back to square one again," said Emily, leaning back with a sigh of exasperation as she turned her gaze to the sky.

"Not quite," said Serana. Emily turned her gaze back towards her vampiric companion. "He had to be somewhere reasonably close by," Serana continued, "Even for a powerful mage, it's difficult to cast such a spell over long distances. He's not going to want to waste his energies on that."

"So, if you were to hazard a guess at distance?" Emily prompted.

"I think he's somewhere in the southwest of England," said Serana, pulling out a map Emily had given her during their foray through her home in Porlock Weir, "Or possibly Wales, likely no further North than Birmingham or any further east than Oxford." She pointed to the two locations on the map.

"Then we'd better regroup and start searching again tonight," said Emily, glancing at her watch, "We only have another three hours of night left."

The elephant had carried them far. On their left were fields and in the distance a wooded area lay nestled but on their right these gave way to rolling green hills. Hedges grew thick and wild at the sides of the roads, partially obscuring any signage. Ahead, some distance down the road, Emily could make out the lights which signified a large village. Like many villages in England, the tallest structure was that of a church, silhouetted plainly against the gradually lightening sky.

"Any idea where we are?" Serana asked.

"Yes, actually," said Emily, craning her neck to see, "That's Winscombe over there. And I know where we can shelter for the day. That's where my parents live."

As the lights drew nearer Emily heard a faint droning. It was coming from somewhere above them. Emily looked up into the star studded skies. Then in the distance she heard the long wailing cry of a siren.

"Something wrong?" asked Sheogorath as he noticed both Emily and Serana looking anxiously around.

"I think the police have found us," said Emily. Then a light pierced through the night, falling upon them and the elephant. Emily looked up, blinking into the bright search light of a helicopter, its rotors rhythmically beating the air as it hovered overhead.

"You're on the run?" said Sheogorath, a twinkle in his eye, "Marvellous." He threw back his head and laughed. "I'll admit, you do know how to have a good time. I may have to mark this place down on me list of favourite holiday destinations." All at once he stood up.

"I think this is our stop," he announced, "I'll be seeing you."

"Hold on, where are you going?" Emily asked as she too got to her feet. The droning of the helicopter almost drowned out her question to the mad god.

"Who knows?" Sheogorath said, "I might go to Cheddar gorge, I hear the cheese there is die for. And you damn well might when you go chasing it down that gorge. Or maybe I'll go run for president. I think I'd be pretty good at it. Anyway, ta-ta, immortals, see you later." With that he leapt down from the back of the elephant and out of sight.

"I think we'd better go too," shouted Emily as the droning grew louder and the bright searchlight swept over them again. They leapt down off the elephant, dropping into the road. They could still hear the sirens, drawing ever nearer as they looked around. The trees and hedges were shaking under the onslaught of the helicopter's presence. Leaves cascaded down in showers around them. The animals were now milling around without the mad god's influence. The giraffes were retreating from the cacophony of sound. The lions were watching them with interest, tails lashing and one of the elephants, unnerved by the lions and the human machinery encroaching upon them, gave a loud trumpet.

"Come on," said Emily, grasping Serana's hand, "This way." They ran off the road and almost immediately found themselves skidding down a steep slope into a ditch. A moment later they fetched up on the far side and ran out into the fields. Ahead of them lay the lights of Winscombe. The grass around them bent double under the force of the winds whipped up by the helicopter and once more the searchlight found them, the light nearly blinding them. Emily shielded her eyes with her other hand.

"I think it's time we disappeared," Serana shouted to her.

"Right," Emily shouted back. The next moment they vanished from sight and the searchlight faltered in its search. The only thing that marked their path was the grass parting before them.

By the time they reached the far side of the field the searchlights had fallen behind and the helicopter was now circling over the field. They could faintly hear people calling out to one another mingled with the sounds of the animals. Several of the smaller of the mad god's menagerie had strayed out into the fields and were either grazing or simply milling about, exploring their new habitat. The police had evidently called for backup and a few braver souls had taken their police dogs and were now searching the field.

Emily climbed up over the metal gate and landed on the far side. They found themselves standing at the side of a narrow country lane which led down into Winscombe. A sign, pointing the way to the centre of the village sat half hidden by dense foliage. They shimmered back into view as they headed off down the road.

"How far is it to your parents' house?" Serana asked, glancing anxiously at the sky.

"Not far," Emily replied, "Once you see the church, we're almost there." As there were no footpaths they kept to the grassy verge. The road took them past several large houses, varying from red brick to white pebbledash. Some were reinforced with wooden beams while others were not. Unlike in Tamriel, there seemed to be no unified style of architecture. Several people stood at their doorways, clad in their night things, watching the police helicopter hovering over the field. Emily and Serana hurried on down the road before any of the bystanders could think to question them on the curious circumstances.

At last they spotted the church tower over the high mossy walls covered in trailing ivy that lined the road on one side.

"It's just down here," said Emily as she led Serana down towards a row of red brick houses. She stopped outside one with a small neatly kept garden. Tall hedges grew on either side of the small pale green picket gate. It creaked slightly as Emily pushed it open and they moved up the stone paved path towards the front door. It was wooden and there was a black metal door knocker placed squarely in the middle of the top half. Emily took a deep breath.

"Are you alright?" Serana asked.

"Yeah, I'm just," Emily replied, "Just a little nervous is all. I knew I should have rung them first." She took another lungful of air she did not need and reached up, rapping the wrought iron knocker. Immediately a loud barking set up on the far side of the door and she heard hard nailed feet tramping up and down the hallway.

"Ernest," said Emily and the barking on the far side redoubled.

"Who could that be at this time of night?" Emily heard a voice she recognised to be her mother's at the top of the stairs.

"I don't know, love," replied another, gruffer voice, "Don't worry, I'll go have a look. It's probably just old Luca. Bet that dog of his has got out again. I told him before, he needs to mend that gaping great hole in his fence."

The door opened and Emily's father stood in the doorway, wearing a set of striped pyjamas over his portly frame and a pair of slippers. Emily's mothers stood at the top of the stairs, wearing a powder pink dressing gown that looked as though it had been thrown on in a hurry. Ernest, a large St Bernard dog with sagging jowls and drooping eyelids, wagged his tail at Emily, snuffled her hand before plodding back inside. They looked much as Emily remembered them. Perhaps her father now had a few more grey hairs in his bushy beard but other than that they were unchanged. As soon as their eyes locked her father froze. His eyes were wide and he was making odd shapes with his mouth like a fish out of water.

"Emily?" he managed to stammer out at last, "Is that really you?"

"Who is it, George?" came her mother's voice as she hurried down the stairs. She, likewise, came to a halt just behind her husband when she caught sight of Emily.

"Hi mum, hi dad," said Emily hesitantly. She felt as though she should have been running into their arms, glad to be home at last but something held her back.

"Emily, where have you been?" her mother asked, "We thought you were dead. We had the police up and down the country searching for you. What…what happened?"

"It's a long story, mum," Emily replied, "Is it alright if we come inside?" She gestured towards Serana. Emily's parents shifted their attention from their daughter to the stranger standing a couple of feet behind.

"Who is this?" her mother asked. Her father, for now at least, seemed to have lost the power of speech.

"This is my friend, Serana," Emily replied.

"Your…friend?" her mother echoed. Then she seemed to catch herself on. "Yes, yes, come inside, both of you." Emily and Serana followed Emily's parents into a small sitting room. The carpet covering the floor was covered in a busy floral pattern, as were the sofa and matching armchair. A TV cabinet stood in one corner. There were numerous photos surrounding it of several family members. Serana reckoned she had a good idea of who the young blonde in several of the photos was. Ernest was curled up in one corner of the room, watching with lazy eyes as they all filed in. George sat down heavily in the armchair while his wife perched on the edge of the arm of the chair. She had wavy blonde that stuck up in several places which, along with the nightdress she wore under the dressing gown, suggested that she was not long awake. Emily and Serana stood uneasily in the doorway for a moment. Then Serana rested her hand gently on Emily's arm and they moved over to the sofa where they sat down.

"It all started when I went to Norway," began Emily, "I needed some time to think."

"Yes, we heard from Maylene shortly after you left," Emily's mother began, "Did you have another fight? She-."

"Barbara," said her father gently who had found his voice at last, "Let her speak. I'm sure she'll explain everything."

"I'll try but… well, what I'm about to say, I didn't believe it at first either," Emily continued. Her parents exchanged anxious looks at these words.

"I went to another world, there was a stone archway in Norway," Emily explained, "I was sketching it then on the way back I walked through it. There was a shimmering light and then I was standing on a mountainside but something was different. I found my way to a small village called Dragon Bridge. It wasn't until another day or two when I realised I wasn't on Earth anymore." Her parents were both looking at her in disbelief. Her father shook his head.

"Emily, what are you talking about?" he asked, "A-another world?"

"Emily, have you been taking drugs?" Barbara asked, "I told you before, George, that girl was a bad influence. What else do you expect from anyone hanging around that…that festival?"

"Mum, I haven't been taking any drugs, this has nothing to do with Maylene," Emily replied, her voice going up an octave, "And I went to that festival too if you remember." She lowered her voice again as she continued. "I didn't believe it either at first. I mean, another world, it's unheard of. But Serana, Serana's from this world, from Tamriel."

"Emily, you, you have lost it, this, George, are you hearing this, this is absolutely absurd," said her mother, her hands balled into fists in her dressing gown, "Look at you, you're so pale, have you been ill? This woman has obviously turned your head." She gestured to Serana who was looking uneasily between Emily's parents and the Earthling who was staring at her mother with disbelief to rival hers.

"Mother, no one has turned my head, if you'd just listen," said Emily, standing up, "I did go to another world. I learnt to do magic and I'm not ill. I'm….I'm…." She faltered. Both her parents were looking at her as though she had two heads. "I'm a vampire." At these words her mother put her head in her hands.

"Emily," she said quietly, "I don't know what's happened but tomorrow we'll get you down to a doctor and you," she pointed to Serana, "You can leave. Just…get out."

"Leave Serana alone," said Emily, taking a step towards her mother, "Mother, I'm telling you the truth. If you don't believe me, check my pulse." Slowly her mother got up. Her hands were shaking a little as she pressed two fingers to Emily's neck. For a moment she hesitated. Then she withdrew, a look of horror on her face as she felt for the arm of the arm chair as if for support, sitting down quickly.

"Emily, how did this happen?" asked her father.

"Well, we had to go to a place known as the Soul Cairn," said Emily hesitantly, "And only vampires can go there without giving up a piece of their soul so I became a vampire to go there."

"But why did you go to this…Soul Cairn?" asked her father.

"We had to retrieve an item known as an Elder Scroll from Serana's mother so we could find the location of a legendary bow," Emily explained.

"It was to stop my father," Serana added, "To stop him from blotting out the sun." Emily's mother shook her head.

"Emily, this…this is unbelievable," she said, getting up once more from the armchair, "There must be a pulse there and I just didn't feel it, it was so faint. That would explain this…fantasy world your mind has conjured up."

"Mother, you can check for a pulse as much as you want," Emily replied, "It isn't there. I don't need to breathe either and…I have fangs." Emily's mother looked into her face, at her pale skin and red eyes. Then she looked past her to Serana.

"Is she a vampire too?" she asked.

"Yes," Emily replied.

"Did she turn you then?" she asked. Emily nodded.

"Why?" her mother asked.

"Because it was the only way," Emily explained, "I consented to it."

"But…but vampires kill people, they drink their blood," said her mother, "They…" Her voice faltered as she looked into her daughter's face. She turned away.

"This…this is too much to take in, I can't accept this," Emily heard her say as Emily's father got to his feet, resting a hand on his wife's shoulders. She shook it off. Emily stood there for a moment. She felt her eyes stinging as they welled up with tears and her lower lip trembled. Then she turned and fled from the room. Serana got up and followed her.

The door to the kitchen stood ajar and Emily stood with her hands braced on either side of the sink. Her shoulders were shaking and she was drawing ragged breaths. Serana crossed the room silently yet Emily heard her.

"Sera," she heard her say, her voice shaking as she turned to face the vampiress. Serana was not sure how to respond. She felt a knot forming in her own throat as she regarded the Earthling. They moved simultaneously, Emily reaching out to the elder vampiress and Serana taking her in her arms. Emily buried her head in Serana's neck, harsh sobs racking her body.

"I'm sorry," she heard Serana say, "I'm sorry, Em."

"Don't apologise," Emily managed to choke out in response, "Please, Sera, don't. It isn't your fault."

"But I turned you," said Serana, "If we'd only soul trapped…"

"I told you before, I don't regret what happened," Emily replied, holding Serana tightly. She choked back another sob. "You helped me survive in a world I felt I didn't have a chance in."

"By killing you," Serana replied.

"I'm undead, Sera, not dead," said Emily, looking up into Serana's eyes. Serana rolled her eyes.

"Em, don't go debating the classification of life and unlife with me," she said. Emily gave her a watery smile as Serana reached up to cup the side of her face, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb. Emily's smile widened a little as she put her arms back around Serana.

"I love you, I really do," she said as Serana held her tightly.

"What about your parents?" Serana asked. Emily took a deep breath.

"I don't know," she said, "All I can hope is that they'll come around. When I came out it…well, it took them a while to come to terms with it." She felt something wet against her palm and looked down to see Ernest snuffling his great wet nose into her hand. He looked up at her, wagging his tail slowly. Emily ruffled his long chestnut fur and he leant into her hand, drooling slightly. Serana put out her hand for the dog to sniff. He snuffled his black shiny nose into her hand and she rubbed at his neck.

"You big softy," said Emily as she wiped away the last of her tears, kneeling to put her arms around the big St Bernard as she had done so on many occasions before.

"Are you ready to go back in?" Serana asked gently. Emily stood up.

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath, "Yeah, I'm ready."

When they re-entered the sitting room they found Emily's parents much as they left them. Emily's mother was quiet and pale-looking. Her father sat with one hand resting on her shoulder. The television in the corner had been switched on, presumably to fill the silence that followed Emily leaving the room. Emily and Serana sat down on the sofa where the awkward silence continued. Emily felt Serana slip her hand into Emily's and she gave her fingers a grateful squeeze. Ernest came plodding in, planting himself squarely between Emily and Serana where he sat, thumping his tail against the carpet.

The television was displaying a news channel. The story currently playing was recounting the blood bank robbery that had taken place the previous night. Two sketches flashed up on the screen.

"Is that…you?" Emily's mother asked quietly. Emily nodded. She gulped nervously.

"Yes, yes, it is," she replied.

"You stole from a blood bank?" her father asked.

"Dad, we had to," Emily explained, "Believe me, it wasn't an easy choice for us to make. But the alternatives were…well, worse."

"You mean feeding off of others," said her mother. Emily nodded.

Then the news story changed to a breaking news update.

"Zookeepers are on the scene now to recapture the animals that escaped from Longleat Animal Sanctuary following the appearance of a man in his mid to late sixties," said the anchor-woman, "Police are investigating the footage taken from a camera on board a police helicopter shortly after the animals stampeded through Glastonbury which appears to show two women accompanying the man. It is unknown who these three suspects are at the present time but police continue to search the local area." The footage, taken from the air, showed the animals advancing along the road in the direction of Winscombe. Three figures could clearly be seen atop the elephant's back.

"And this? Was this you too?" Emily's mother asked.

"Yes, but it wasn't our plan to come here by elephant," Emily said quickly, "It's part of the long story I mentioned. We came here to stop an evil dragonborn mage from enslaving the human race. We were investigating in Glastonbury when we were attacked by some of the people he enslaved. That lethargy they were reporting on the news, that was all part of it."

"And how exactly did you come to be on the back of an elephant?" her father asked, his voice calm but his eyes showing the struggle to come to terms with all this new information.

"The man the news mentioned, his name is Sheogorath, he followed us from this other world," Emily explained, "We didn't even know until tonight when he showed up on the elephant and rescued us from Miraak's followers."

"Miraak?" said her father.

"The evil dragonborn mage," said Emily.

"But why are you caught up in all of this?" asked her mother, "Why are you pursuing this man? He's obviously dangerous." And here, Emily decided, was the cherry on top of weird things she'd had to explain that night.

"Because I'm dragonborn too," she said, "It means I have the soul of a dragon. How, I can't begin to understand but I do. And Miraak doesn't want another dragonborn on the scene. He's already tried to kill me twice. That's why we need to stay here. Just for one day. Vampires can't go out by day." She knew there was a lot more to be explained but right now she didn't feel as though she had the strength to.

"Please, mum," said Emily. Emily's mother sighed.

"Yes, yes, of course you can stay," she said. She looked uncertainly at Serana and then at her husband.

"It'll be alright, Barbara," said Emily's father gently.

"But George," Emily's mother began.

"She's still our little girl, Bar," he replied. At these words Emily wanted to get up and hug her father but she waited to see if her mother would say anything more. Her mother nodded and met her daughter's gaze briefly.

"Your room is just as you left it," she said.

"Thank you, mum," said Emily gratefully.

She got up and Serana took one uncertain look at Emily's parents before following her from the room.

Emily's bedroom lay at the top of the stairs. It was a small room with mauve wallpaper. A bed with purple sheets and duvet stood against the back wall. In one corner was a wicker basket filled to the brim and overflowing with cuddly toys Emily had amassed during her childhood but had never had the heart or the inclination to throw out. The other corner was home to a bookshelf groaning under the weight of scores of books. Emily crossed the room to the window where she pulled the curtains shut, compensating for the lack of light by turning on the bedside lamp. Serana sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry about what my mum said about you," said Emily as she sat down next to her. Serana smiled.

"Don't worry about it," she said, slipping an arm around Emily, "If I remember right, my mother didn't give you the warmest of welcomes either." Emily leaned into the embrace.

"So, do you want to get some rest?" Serana asked, gesturing towards the bed, "Or is there anything more you'd like to say to your parents?"

"I'm afraid we're more or less confined to barracks now," said Emily, "This house is a suntrap. There are plenty of windows in each room to let the sunlight in and many of them don't have curtains."

"I guess we'll get some rest then," said Serana, leaning back on the bed. She looked at the posters that lined the walls. They were of various groups of people. Some held instruments similar in appearance to a lute.

"Are these the Earthling equivalent of bards?" she asked, gesturing towards the posters.

"Yeah, when I was growing up I was mad about music," Emily replied, "That's why I used to go to the Glastonbury festival." She lay back on the bed. Even though she had not slept there in years, the springs in the mattress yielding beneath her back were familiar, as was the smell of the pillowcase and the sheets. Through the floorboards she heard her parents talking and Ernest padding about on the wooden floor of the hallway. It all sounded so familiar and yet…everything was different. She rolled over, nestling up against the vampiress and feeling the familiar embrace as she looped one arm about her. No matter what happened, she decided, she knew where she belonged.


	31. Frost Versus Fire

Emily smiled, nestling further into the pillow, one hand resting on the arm encircling her waist. When she stirred Serana, still half asleep, tucked her in closer to her. Her blonde hair had grown over the last few months and now tickled her nose. She withdrew her hand to scratch at her nose and the moment her hand left Emily's waist the Earthling opened her eyes, turning over to face the vampiress.

"Hey," she said sleepily. Serana smiled.

"Hey," she replied. She glanced over at the curtains still covering the windows. "How long were we out for?" she asked. Emily pulled her arm out from under the covers and checked her watch.

"Just under ten hours," she said, "We've still another six before nightfall." Emily sat up, leaning against the headboard. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out the worst of the knots as best she could.

"Gosh, I wish we were in our little cottage in the forest," she said, picking up a brush from the bedside table. She began brushing her hair. "I never appreciated until now just how many shadowy corners it had that we could hide away in." She paused mid-brush. "I wonder how far from here it is."

"You told me before about space, the planets and their place in the galaxy," Serana replied, "What was it you called it?"

"The Milky Way," said Emily.

"That's the one," Serana replied. She folded her arms, leaning against Emily's lap as she looked up into the Earthling's face, "Surely Nirn must be somewhere in there. Somewhere." Emily set down the brush, resting one hand on Serana's soft dark hair.

"Not necessarily," she said, "That's assuming we're in the same universe as Nirn." Serana listened as Emily continued. "For a long time Earthlings have theorized that there may be more than one universe. They, rather fittingly, call it the Multiverse Theory."

"And just how many of these multiverses do they theorize to exist?" Serana asked. Emily shrugged her shoulders.

"An infinite amount," she replied, "And because of that there are infinite possibilities as to what exists in those multiverses. There might be one with another Emily and Serana but maybe in that universe you were the mortal and I was the vampire." Serana frowned.

"How could there be another us even if there are so many multiverses?" she asked, "That seems like one Oblivion of a coincidence."

"That's the thing about infinity," said Emily, "If there are an infinite number of multiverses out there, literally anything could exist. But it is just a theory. There may be no other universes. Maybe Nirn is somewhere in the Milky Way. Or perhaps…"

"Perhaps what?" asked Serana.

"Perhaps we're in the Andromeda Galaxy," Emily replied, "That's the one closest to the Milky Way."

"If these things are all so far away," said Serana, "How do Earthlings know about them?"

"Because of something called the Hubble Space telescope," replied Emily, "It's up there now somewhere."

"What's a telescope?" Serana asked.

"It's…well, it's like…," Emily paused. During her time in Skyrim she could not recall seeing a telescope or anything similar. She looked around the room and her gaze fell upon an old magnifying glass sitting on the edge of the bookshelf. Serana sat up as Emily got up and fetched it down from its lofty perch.

"Imagine this," she said, handing Serana the magnifying glass to look through, "But way bigger and capable of sending images of what it sees back to Earth. I think I have a few images taken from the Hubble Space telescope somewhere around here." With that she got up from the bed once more and began rummaging through a cupboard in one corner of the room.

"I used to keep all my space junk in here," she said as she sifted through the papers, books and figurines, "I was mad keen on space when I was a kid. I was so certain I was going to grow up to be an astronaut." She checked herself, "That is, someone who goes up into space. But then the thought of blasting off into outer space and leaving Earth behind. That was way too scary." At last she found what she was looking for and returned to the bed.

"And yet you did," Serana smiled as Emily handed her the pictures, "Still too scary?" She quirked an eyebrow at the Earthling. Emily chuckled.

"Not anymore," she smiled. Serana looked for a second as though she wanted to say something else but she hesitated and her gaze faltered. She covered this up by looking at the various images Emily had given her. One looked like towering orange clouds against a night sky, pierced by several bright pinkish-red lights. Scrawled below in what was clearly a child's handwriting were the words, "The Eagle Nebula." She smiled to herself, glancing over at the Earthling. Emily caught her gaze.

"What?" she asked with a half-smile.

"It's just kind of funny seeing things from your past," she replied, "It's nice." She shuffled through the pictures, looking at images of galaxies, of a star going "supurnova" as it was labelled and a cluster of seven stars known as the Pleiades.

"Do you think there's anything you'll take with you when we leave tonight?" Serana asked. Emily glanced at the bulging backpack that stood at the foot of the bed.

"I don't think there's room for much else," she said, nudging it with her foot, "Even with that shrinking charm you put on it. I already packed a few books from my house and a couple of other bits and pieces." She got up from the bed. "Though…perhaps," she reached the wicker basket of stuffed toys in the corner. She picked out one of them, a black knitted cat with green knitted eyes. She turned to Serana, holding the cat, "I know it's silly but…" Serana shrugged her shoulders.

"I won't judge," she said as Emily sat down on the edge of the bed, "So, what do you call him?"

"Promise you won't laugh?" Emily said sheepishly. By means of reply Serana chuckled.

"Well, if you're going to be like that," said Emily with mock annoyance.

"Fine, I won't laugh," smiled Serana. She rested a hand on the knitted cat's head, "So, what is it?"

"Knitty Puss," Emily replied, "My nana knitted him for me and gave him to me when I was five. Honestly, the only reason I didn't have him with me in Tamriel was because I left in such a hurry." She chuckled.

"What?" Serana asked.

"I was just thinking if he had come with me one of the first things you learnt about your rescuer was that she had a stuffed toy for a companion," Emily replied, still laughing.

"Yeah, instead you had Finn," Serana reminded her.

"I hope he's doing alright," Emily replied, "I mean, I know we made him that otter door to come and go as he wanted but.."

"Well, in another couple of weeks we'll find out just how much he and Tibius have managed to trash the place," smiled Serana as she lay back on the bed.

At last the sun set outside and Emily and Serana trooped down the stairs to the front room. Ernest greeted them at the bottom of the stairs, wagging his bushy tail. Serana patted his head as they passed and he followed them into the front room where Emily's parents were watching television. The television, however, seemed to be more a means of providing some background noise than entertainment. They looked up when Emily and Serana entered the room.

"Hey ummm," said Emily awkwardly. She rubbed at her arm, not sure where to look, "Thanks. You know, for letting us stay over and... Yeah, thanks."

"Will you be returning to this world you mentioned?" her mother asked.

"Yes, yes, I think so," Emily replied, "As soon as Miraak's been dealt with. Then we'll need to hurry back to the portal." She paused. "I'm afraid I probably won't be able to come back here again. So.." She felt her voice catch in her throat. "Goodbye." She felt tears beginning to prick the corners of her eyes and she turned to wipe them away. Emily's father got up. He looked first at Emily and then at Serana.

"Serana," he said, "I don't pretend to understand all that's happened. This other world, Tamriel, and Miraak. And I can't say I'm altogether comfortable with what my daughter's become. But…Emily is clearly very fond of you and trusts you a great deal. All I ask is that you keep my little girl safe."

"I will," Serana replied. Emily smiled, then she threw her arms around her dad's neck.

"Thanks, Dad," she said in a shaky voice. Her father returned the hug.

"Look after yourself, squirt," he replied as he took a step back.

"I will, Dad," said Emily, wiping at one of her eyes, "Bye mum."

"Take…take care of yourself, sweetie," her mother said, getting up from the sofa. She did not move towards her daughter but remained where she was, her hands folded in front of her. She could not seem to bring herself to move any closer.

All of a sudden the television which had hitherto been showing a weather report turned to crackling static, ghostly figures jumping across the screen. Emily's mother turned to look at it as the sound, likewise, stuttered and crackled.

Emily hurried over to the window and peered behind the curtains. Outside a strong wind had picked up. The previously cloudless sky was rapidly being swallowed up by a sea of swirling grey.

"Whoa, what's going on with the weather?" Emily's father said, joining her at the window.

"It's Miraak," said Serana, "You should both stay inside." With that she turned and headed for the door. Ernest started barking as Emily ran past him.

"Emily, wait," Emily's mother called after her.

Emily pushed open the front door. The wind whipped back her hair and ruffled the loose fitting top she wore. Above them the clouds swirled. Leaves rained down in cascades from the nearby trees, ripped by the wind from their lofty perches. There was a thundercrack accompanied by a flash of lightning. The noise of the thunder echoed all around them as the weaker-limbed trees were bent double under the onslaught. At the heart of the cloud the grey swirling matter parted to reveal a large green eye. Emily's parents watched in shock from just behind the two vampiresses as the eye swivelled around to focus upon them.

"Laat Dovahkiin," a voice that echoed with thunder spoke from the clouds, "I see you continue to evade my people. Very well, I issue to you this challenge. This is your chance to come to me willingly to that you may face us in fair combat. There will not be another. Come to the tower my people have built in my honour on the stone rings of the past. If you do not, my servants will hunt you down."

The wind doubled in strength as the eye closed and became nothing more than cloud once again. Slowly the wind dropped and the echoes of thunder died away, leaving Emily, her parent's and Serana looking at the sky.

"The stone rings of the past," said Serana to herself. She turned to Emily. "What do you think he means by that?"

"I think he means a stone monument," Emily replied, "Somewhere ancient. You said he had to be somewhere close by, right?" Serana nodded.

"I'm more convinced of that than ever after that performance," she said, pointing at the storm clouds.

"I think he means Stonehenge then," said Emily at last.

"Is it far?" Serana asked.

"Far enough," Emily replied, "We could probably walk there in about two days, maybe three."

"That's not quick enough," said Serana thoughtfully, folding her arms, "That would give his "servants" plenty of time to track us down."

"Emily," came a voice behind them. Emily's father was fishing in his pocket. He pulled out a set of keys. "The car's in the garage." Emily smiled.

"Thanks, Dad," she said as he tossed the keys to her. She caught them and they hurried around to the side of the house to the garage where an old red Ford focus was parked. They piled into the car and Emily put the key in the ignition. The engine roared into life and Emily backed it out onto the driveway. She waved to her parents through the front window before heading off down the road.

They travelled Eastward out of Winscombe, following the A38.

"What's the significance of this place?" Serana asked as they drove, "Stonehenge I mean."

"It's old," Emily replied, putting on the brakes as they reached a junction. She turned left and continued on. "Prehistoric in fact," she continued, "It's aligned perfectly with the sunrise of the summer solstice and the sunset of the winter solstice though no one really knows exactly why or when it was built. Why Miraak has any interest in it? I have even less idea about that." She hesitated.

"There is an old legend I read about once," she said, "There was supposed to be a wellspring somewhere around there. But loads of people over the years have tried drilling for it and never found it."

"Could he be after that?" Serana asked.

"I doubt it," Emily replied, "If it ever was magic, it wouldn't hold the kind of powers he'd be interested in. I don't think healing powers would factor in much for an immortal dragonborn. Besides, if Earth ever had any magic it died years ago."

The roads took them through several smaller settlements including the villages of Oakhill and Cranmore. They were forced to take a detour as they neared Longleat, likely due to the Daedric Prince of Madness' activities the night before. Many a fence in the area had been broken and a great swathe had been cut through one of the wooded areas near the animal park. Serana watched the scenery slide by the car window. The car they were in did not run as smoothy as the little car of Emily's and she noticed one of the lights on the dashboard seemed to flicker on and off entirely of its own accord. A silence had settled over the car and all that was to be heard was the whoosh of the other traffic on the road speeding along in the opposite direction or passing them on the outside lane. Serana was the first to break the silence.

"Are you nervous?" she asked.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit," Emily replied, "To be honest I'm terrified. I can't shake this feeling that we're walking right into his trap. But," she gripped the steering wheel more firmly, "This is the best chance we've got." Serana rested a hand gently on her arm.

"We'll be alright," she said, her voice betraying more confidence than she felt, "We've been through worse than this after all." Emily returned the smile gratefully.

A roar from above suddenly shook the car violently.

"What in Oblivion was that?" cried Emily, looking up through the sunroof. Above them the sky was dark and Emily could see nothing but clouds.

"Emily, look out for that car!" Serana yelled. Emily's gaze snapped back to the road in front of her and the car looming horribly close on their left. Emily seized the wheel and turned it sharply to the right, the car jumping across the lane and almost colliding with the metal barrier running up the centre before she was able to steady it. Another roar, closer this time, shook the car. Emily heard a whooshing sound as of great leathery wings beating overhead. The car ahead of them suddenly screeched to a halt and Emily was forced to swerve to the left to clear it. The car behind blared its horn. At them, Emily thought.

"Can you see anything?" she asked of her vampiric companion. Serana looked up through the sunroof and froze. The air above them had been entirely consumed by a red scaly mass. Great leathery wingbeats signalled the close proximity at which the beast soared above them.

"Get down, Emily," she yelled as the scaly being drew near enough for her to see individual scales on the creature's belly. She grabbed Emily and pulled her down. In the same instant the metal framework was gripped tightly in curved talons each as long as Emily's forearm. They pierced the windscreen, turning the glass into a meshwork of cracks and bent and warped the metal frame of the car out of shape like it was made out of cheap plastic. The car lurched heavily and Emily felt her stomach drop several inches. The next second they were thrown to one side, held in place only by the seatbelts that secured them to their chairs. The car swung violently in time to the wingbeats and Emily realised with a sick feeling that they had left the ground far behind. She fought her way back to a sitting position and stared out of the window. Ahead of them, floating just above the horizon was a great stone tower. The stones that made it up, however, were not still. They moved ceaselessly in circling motions, keeping the towers shape in a constant state of fluctuation. A sickly green light pierced the cracks and it was from the summit of this strange tower that the grey clouds were spewing. Above the tower the clouds had a greenish yellow cast to them, giving the impression of wounded flesh left to go septic.

"That has to be it," said Serana. Emily felt her fingers digging into her shoulders. "Come on, we've got to get out of here. I don't know about you but I'd rather enter that tower on my own terms." Emily nodded. There was another crunch overhead as the red dragon tightened its grip on the car. Glass rained down upon them in tiny fragments. They summoned lightning upon their palms, aiming it at the holes in the metalwork and glass created by the mighty ivory talons. As their magic struck the winged entity a great booming voice echoed around them.

"Pitiful, your lightning is to me little more than a prick of a thistle," he growled, "Sit quietly, Lord Miraak has ordered that you should be delivered alive but I have little qualms in ceasing your struggle if necessary." The dragon turned his attention from his struggling quarry to a light object that had materialised out of the gloom.

"My pearly "brother"," he said in a mocking tone, "Ye have come too late. I have captured the immortals my Lord Miraak desires. It is I who shall receive his boon."

"Thy arrogance truly knows no bounds, Goch," replied the other in gravelly tones, "It is thy hubris which will make an end of thee." As red as blood were the scales of the dragon that carried them, his eyes burning bright in his head and trails of smoke flaring from his nostrils as he regarded the white scaled beast keeping level with them. His eyes burned with blue fire.

"Thou would do well to hold thine tongue, Hwit," he said, "So long as I hold the prize master craves, ye are but a lizard under a stone to him."

Emily redoubled her efforts, striking against the side of the car. It jarred, wobbling to one side and causing the red dragon to shift his hold on the metal framework. He hissed angrily and the white dragon bared his brilliant white teeth in amusement at his brother's folly. It was then that Emily spotted a gap in the framework where one of the dragon's talons had been only moments before.

"There," she shouted to Serana. Serana nodded and they each gathered icy energy about their palms, forming great icy spikes. In one motion they drove upwards, releasing the spikes which shot through the opening, piercing the red dragon's belly. In an instant his talons relinquished their hold and the car plummeted back to Earth. Emily let out a yell as she collided with the roof of the car, flattened against it as it rolled over and over in mid-air. A roaring sound filled her ears and the world before her seemed to spin. She felt Serana grab her around her waist. Then darkness surrounded her as there was a terrible splintering of glass. She thought at first it must be the impact of the car against the ground and expected every sense to be flooded with pain in the next instant. But when she next opened her eyes she saw the patchwork of fields far below along with the flaming pyre that marked the car's final resting place in the middle of a field. Her legs dangled in mid-air and she looked up into the face of her rescuer, distorted though it was by her transformation. Then she saw the dragons wheeling about in the sky. The red dragon was roaring savagely, twisting about in mid-air in an effort to dislodge the icy spikes.

Serana had told her once before that she could not carry her in the form of a vampire lord. Now Emily saw why. Though enough to keep them from plummeting to their deaths, their combined weight was dragging them surely down to Earth. Emily held on tightly to the vampiress as the ground rose to meet them. The dragons, too, had caught sight of their escaping quarry and had changed direction, closing in.

Serana regained human form as their feet touched the earth and they pulled their bows from their backs as the dragons soared overhead.

"Let us see who shall have the honour of delivering thy quarry to Miraak," said the white dragon as he hovered overhead. His scales glittered like shavings of ice in what little light there was.

"So be it, Hwit," roared the red dragon, loosing a tongue of flame from his maw. It lit a swathe of grass close by and Emily and Serana took to their heels, fleeing the hungry flames. They stopped by a large rock that jutted up out of the ground like a giant's tooth. From here they nocked their arrows and fired. But for all the good they did they might as well have fired matchsticks.

"These beasts are a lot tougher than the ones back home," said Serana through gritted teeth. The next second they were forced to dive behind the rock as the white dragon unleashed a breath of razor snow which coated the rock in a thick frost.

"We hit him before," Emily cried, "The arrows don't faze him but the ice did."

"Of course," yelled Serana, "He's a fire dragon. Fire dragon's can't stand ice. The same's the other way around. Ice can't stand fire."

"That's all well and good for the red dragon then," cried Emily, "But what about the white? We can't use fire spells. We'll burn up."

"Let's worry about the red one first," said Serana as she sprinted off into the darkness, towards the wall of flame that marked the red dragon's presence. Emily followed. Amidst the flames they could see the red dragon. He had risen up onto its haunches and was watching them with his eyes of yellow flame. His bat-like wings were silhouetted against the smoke as he reared back. Then flames were rippling across the grass towards them. Emily darted to the left while Serana veered off to the right. His great tail lashed from side to side as his gaze flicked from one to the other. He swiped at Serana with clawed forepaws as she drew near. She launched icy spikes whenever opportunity allowed, striking the beast and piercing holes in his leathery wings.

Emily veered around the wall of flame and drew level with the beast's spiny back.

FO KRAH DIIN

The icy wave broke over the red dragon and he roared in pain, bringing around his ugly spiked head to meet his attacker. Emily found herself staring into piercing yellow reptilian eyes. She backed away, conjuring icy spikes on her palms as the great mouth lined with razor sharp teeth opened and she stared down the glowing gorge of the beast. She hurled the spikes in the direction of the beast, diving to one side as a tongue of flame lit up the night air, scorching the grass she had occupied moments before.

Serana continued her onslaught on the beast's wings. They were tattered now and would lift him into the sky no more. He roared, writhing and twisting and Emily saw that one of her ice spikes had lodged itself in the beast's right eye. He slammed his tail into the ground in a fury, gouging great swathes in the ground with his claws. The fire surrounded them now on all sides and the space they had to occupy was diminishing at an alarming rate. Emily summoned ice on her palms, trying to extinguish the flame and she saw Serana doing the same. The red dragon fixed Emily with his one good eye and she was forced to dodge to one side as his great clawed forepaw crashed down into the earth. He roared savagely as his claws missed the Earthling by mere inches.

"Succumb to my power or burn," he bellowed, loosing a tongue of flame into the night sky in is anger. The air was acrid. It burned their throats and stung their eyes. As the dragon reared back to strike once more Emily braced herself against the ground, an idea forming in her mind. She saw the fire welling up in his gorge, preparing to stream down upon her like a rain of magma. She felt the icy surge rising in her own throat. As the fire ripped past the deadly fangs so did the surge of frost erupt from her own mouth. They clashed in mid-air, blazing and freezing, blinding white and fiery orange all at once. The two powers fought for dominance.

The red dragon's roar guttered as the ice pushed against the flame, forcing it back. The ice coated his jaws and he felt his smoke turn to steam. His eyes went wide and his roar turned to a gurgling choking as the fire within him was smothered. The great red spiked head lolled forwards and the heavy spaded tail fell limp against the earth. Above the crackle of the flames Emily heard the roar of their second adversary. Cresting the wall of flames, fire reflecting off of every polished white scale, was the white dragon. Freezing breath, every bit as cold as her own, gushed forth, quelling the flames before him.

"I told him his arrogance would be his downfall," he laughed, a great booming laugh, "Now it is I who shall bring Miraak the prize. He and his lady will be most pleased."

"His Lady?" yelled Emily at the white dragon, "And who is she?" The dragon's scaly lip curled.

"My Lady Maylene," he replied. Emily froze.

Only when the dragon sent another icy blast her way did she break from the spell of stupefaction, diving into the burnt remnants of the grass. Serana grabbed her hand and they ran towards the unburnt section of the field.

"Hiding will not save you now," roared the white dragon, sending an icy gale after them.

"What'll we do now?" cried Emily as they ran, "I doubt arrows will be anymore effective on him than his brother."

"Maybe now's the time to use that shout Hermaeus Mora taught you," Serana shouted back. Emily nodded. They skidded to a halt as the great winged silhouette of the white dragon surged toward them, grass bending double under the wind whipped up by his wings. Emily braced herself against the ground as he reached them, hovering above the earth with great ragged wingbeats.

"Face me, immortal," he bellowed, "See if thee can withstand my frozen wrath." Emily called forth the words from within herself, the words to control, to manipulate. She hated the feel of them within her. They twisted, coiling like slick oily tentacles around her thoughts. Her lips parted and she shouted.

GOL HAH DOV

A bright golden light erupted from her mouth. It coiled and writhed through the air, even as the white dragon open his mouth to expel his frosty breath. The yellow coils ensnared the white beast and forced his wings to fold. He crashed to the ground, bowing under the weight of her thu'um which seemed to shackle each of his four limbs in place. His head was bowed and he fixed her with icy blue eyes.

"Master, your voice carries weight to it," he growled, "What would you wish of me?" Emily steeled herself before speaking.

"Tell me your name," Emily asked.

"I am Hwit, lord of this island and guardian of its borders," said the dragon.

"Hwit, I ask that you leave us to enter Miraak's tower unhindered," Emily said, her voice still shaking with the Thu'um's energy.

"This I cannot do, master," replied the white dragon, "Miraak's tower is impossible for mortals to scale. Even for immortals such as yourselves." He fixed Serana with his piercing blue eyes.

"Then how do we get up there?" Emily asked.

"Master, my wings could carry you and your companion up there with ease," growled Hwit, "The winds still do my bidding."

"Very well," said Emily, "Take us to Miraak."

Hwit lowered his great head to the two vampiresses. His scales were cold, colder than their own skin as they climbed astride his vast scaly neck. Emily gulped. Riding a broom was one thing but riding a dragon was another. She gripped the ivory horns that decorated the beast's mighty head tightly. She felt Serana's arms around her waist, gripping just as tightly as the dragon braced himself against the ground. Great wings arced overhead. And then they felt themselves thrown forwards as the wings beat downward, launching the great reptilian form into the sky.


	32. Slipping Away

Emily felt sick. It was not from the great wings that nearly unseated her with every beat or the undulating neck that rose and fell with the dragon's momentum. It was the knowledge that atop that tower awaited them not one but two. One of whom she knew. Or thought she did.

The tower was made up of blackened stone, whose undulating motion gave the tower the appearance of a writhing tentacle stretching up towards the leaden sky. The green light spewing from its summit only increased as they drew nearer. The summit consisted of a large flat plane, the only section of the tower that was not in perpetual motion and in the centre was an archway of stone standing in a pool filled with a thick oily substance. Standing before the archway were two figures. One was tall, robed in flowing black robes ornamented with gold. A golden tentacled mask obscured his face but his eyes burned green through the eyeholes, his gaze locked firmly on the approaching dragon.

The second figure was a woman of slender build perhaps a head and a half shorter than the man. She wore similar robes but lacked a mask and where the robes of the man trailed to the ground hers was more tribal in design. Her face was as hard as Emily remembered, with cold grey eyes and a sharp mouth. Hwit landed heavily on the stonework, his claws spread wide to gain purchase as his two riders dismounted.

"Dovahkiin," said Miraak, slowly, deliberately, "You have come at last." He turned his attention to the pearly white dragon they stood before, "You disappoint me, Hwit, to submit to the words of another so easily. Your will is weak. Now, your brother-" Hwit growled, baring long gleaming fangs.

"My brother lies dead in a field, slain like a common lizard," he said in a booming voice, "I go my own way now. My presence is too great for this…lowly structure." With that he crouched, spreading his wings wide so they blotted out much of the green light. "But I will be near. This battle should prove interesting." Then with a great whoosh he took off from the tower and soared up into the grey expanse. Emily watched the retreating form with unease.

"And who is this stranger you have brought?" Miraak asked, his tone one of idle curiosity, "My quarrel is with you, Dragonborn. Why you saw fit to rip me from Apocrypha and bring me here to this…to your world." He paused. "Though indeed, perhaps I should be thanking you. Hermaeus Mora himself cannot touch me here and once your soul is in my possession I can finally make my triumphant return to Tamriel with my Queen by my side." He rested a hand on Maylene's shoulder and she sneered at Emily.

"It could have been great, Emily," she said in a high pitched girlish voice that did not suit her countenance, "We could have been great. Too bad you had to shack up with some goth tart." Emily's eyes narrowed at these words and she bared her fangs as Serana readied ice on her palm. "I never thought you'd be the one to betray me, you were always so weak and spineless."

"I'm not afraid of you anymore," said Emily hotly, her eyes becoming two red slits.

"Because your girlfriend gave you powers?" tittered Maylene, "How cute. Don't act like you're special. You aren't the only one." With that she held up one hand. Tentacles erupted from her palm, coiling around her wrist, dropping to the ground where they fizzed like acid, melting into the stone. Emily recoiled at what she saw. It was not the tentacles she recoiled from but the flinty piercing gaze of her former girlfriend. Her eyes bored into her and she put her in mind of a dog slavering at the end of its leash to get at the meat kept just out of reach.

"I believe I will let you settle this, Maylene," said Miraak, "I won't deprive you. Take her soul and activate the portal."

"With pleasure, my Lord," Maylene replied, her lip curling. She raised her hand, summoning a glowing green energy which she brought level with Emily's chest. Emily stared down the woman she had once loved, summoning ice upon her palm. Maylene grinned and fired.

The ice struck the green energy midway across the stone plinth upon which they stood, causing the air to ripple as a sound like a thunderclap echoed around them. Maylene loosed blast after blast. Emily blocked them, each one knocking her back a foot. Her teeth were gritted with the effort.

"Are you going to fight back? Come on," Maylene taunted, "Or are you going to make this a disappointment like every other aspect of our relationship?" Her gaze slid from Emily to Serana. Emily watched as she conjured a writhing ball of tentacles, aiming at Serana.

A harsh cry tore from Emily's lips as she leapt to one side to engage the magic intended for Serana. The blow sent her spinning through the air, landing on the stones and rolling over and over. She could feel the tentacles burning wherever they landed, leaving great angry looking burns on our arms and neck. Serana took her hand as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. A look of understanding passed between them as their gaze settled on one another. Then they broke apart, taking off in different directions. Icy spikes were conjured as they sprinted towards the dark witch. Maylene's gaze darted between the two. She smiled a grim smile as Emily reached her. The ice slammed into her arm as she brought it up to deflect the blow. She recoiled before delivering a blow of her own, burning green energies slamming into Emily. Emily dodged, feinting and Maylene sent a ball of energy which missed her by mere inches.

Serana struck her from behind, an icy lance piercing her shoulder. She rounded on the vampiress, grey eyes locked on her as she blocked a second blow that followed the first.

"I don't know what you see in her," she spat, "Pale, useless, spineless.." Her words were cut short as Serana brought up her fist, abandoning magic in favour of melee for the time being, punching her square in the jaw and sending her staggering back. She recovered quickly, her jaw cracking as she faced her opponents. Ice gathered about their fingertips.

"You first," she snarled at Serana as she gathered the green energies about her fingers. Her eyes darted back to Emily. "Don't worry, I'll not keep you waiting." Then her eyes left Emily. This proved to be a fatal mistake for the moment her gaze left Emily, the Earthling conjured an icy lance.

Maylene froze, dark energies faltering. Her face was fixed in a contorted sneer as she stared ahead. Slowly she looked down at the icy lance protruding from her stomach, at the glistening viscera that was even now dripping onto the stonework. She looked over her shoulder, cold grey eyes glinting as they made contact with Emily. Her jaw went slack as she dropped to the ground, wheezing, hands clawing at the escaping coils.

"Bravo, Dovahkiin," said Miraak from a throne wrought of stone, carved into the likeness of great black tentacles writhing below a single green eye with a slit pupil. "It would seem I have underestimated you. Our battle will be a worthy one indeed."

"Why do you want to kill us?" Emily demanded.

"I care not for the fate of the vampire," Miraak replied, "As for you? You are Dragonborn. As am I. Your very presence prevents me from returning to Tamriel. Only when I have killed you and used your soul to activate the portal can I resume my destiny as Dragonborn and ruler of Solstheim. And why stop there?" He got up from the throne and descended the steps, walking past Maylene where she lay, gasping and shaking, paying her no more heed than he would to an insect.

"Skyrim would make a welcome addition, I am sure there are those who would leap at the chance to serve me and share in my power," he continued, "Just as the unworthy Maylene once did. I had only to ask of you and she gave what information she could willingly. But it wasn't enough. I knew I had to draw you out of hiding. So I issued my little challenge and awaited you here. Now, shall we get on with the matters at hand?"

He drew a blade as twisted as his words. "And you, stay out of this, it does not concern you." His fingers made a gesture and great writhing tendrils broke through the ground at Serana's feet, lashing themselves around her wrists, her ankles and waist, binding her in place. Emily rushed over to Serana, pulling at the slick black tendrils, straining with the effort, trying to wrench them from around her. She felt something hard slam into her back and felt the searing burning sensation as the magic coursed over her, tearing her leathers to ribbons.

"How disappointing," said the Dragonborn disapprovingly, "A novice mistake, to turn your back on your opponent." Emily turned from Serana to face him.

MUL QAH DIIV

Fire swirled about Miraak and where it touched horns and scales born of the glowing orange light grew, lending him a draconic visage. He ran at her, his thu'um a wind at his back and Emily moved to meet him.

FO KRAH DRIIN

An icy blast ripped from her mouth, hitting the first Dragonborn squarely in the chest. His recoil was brief and a swirling vortex issued from beneath the grotesque mask he wore, spinning toward Emily. She had barely enough time to raise her ward when she was struck by the full force of the cyclone. Her boots were braced against the stonework, her arm raised outstretched before her, the ward bearing the brunt as she was forced back several paces. Then he ran at her again, this time loosing lightning from his fingertips which danced over the ward. It flickered and faded as the lightning leeched at what magicka remained. Emily darted to one side as a bolt struck the stone of the dormant portal.

FUS RO DAH

The thu'um caught her full in the chest and she was flung backwards like a ragdoll, crashing into one of the stone pillars. She rolled to the ground and looked up into the face of her attacker. Then she looked past her to the vampiress still bound against her will. She forced herself to her feet, wavering slightly where she stood. Then Miraak was upon her, lashing out with blade and spell. The blade conjured whipping tendrils into being and more than once Emily was forced to duck and rubble from the stone structure it struck instead of her rained down upon her head. There was dust in her eyes and ears, her back a pattern of red welts. She drew ragged breaths she did not need. Miraak stood over her.

"Surrender your soul to me," he said, "Why draw out your suffering?"

"Never!" Emily yelled as she locked eyes with him. His green glowing eyes bored into hers. There was a flicker in them for a moment. But of what? Uncertainty? Surprise?

ZUN HAAL VIIK

The twisted sword was ripped from his hand where it skittered across the stonework. Emily took advantage of the momentary faltering in his movements to conjure ice about her palms. Then the battle raged anew, lightning against ice. First one seemed to have the advantage and then the other. The tower echoed with their Thu'um.

"Give in, Dovahkiin, I am stronger here," shouted Miraak though he too at last seemed to be showing the first traces of weariness. By now Emily could not speak except to shout and she merely shook her head. When he next raised his palm, so she raised hers. Their powers met in the midst of the field of battle, fighting for supremacy. The ice splintered along the length of the lightning and the lightning twisted about the ice. First the combined magicks were forced one way, then the other. Emily's hands shook with the effort. She gritted her teeth as the magicks were forced back towards Miraak. At the last moment, as he saw the magic closing in he faltered at what he believed to be an impossible truth. He could not be defeated. He was the first of the Dragonblood. Yet the combined ice and lightning ravaged every inch of his armour, splintering it wherever it struck, flaying the flesh beneath. He struggled within the mesh of destruction magicks. A final cry tore from his mouth as he split apart with the sound of a thundercrack.

Instead of dying away the rumbling of thunder continued, rolling around them as the tentacles holding Serana in place shattered and she fell to the ground. The stones were shaking as Emily fought her way over to her, dropping to her knees beside her.

"Are you alright?" her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I'll be fine," Serana replied. She gripped Emily's arm tightly. "We need to get out of here," she continued, "The tower can't stay standing without Miraak. We'll have to risk flying."

"I haven't the strength," Emily said, shaking her head, "You go."

"Not happening," Serana replied, gripping Emily's shoulders, "Come on-." Her words faltered as she looked at something over Emily's shoulder. Then she pushed Emily to the ground. Emily's eyes were filled with green light and she heard an outcry as something slammed into the ground next to her. Serana's pale hands clutched at her chest where tentacles writhed, burning. Emily saw Maylene, hunched over, smiling wickedly beneath her lank hair as she clutched at the deep wound in her stomach. Then she slumped forwards, at last surrendering her grip on life.

Emily scrambled over to Serana, trying to rip the tentacles from her but they held no form, only splitting and dividing with every touch, covering more of the vampiress. The stones beneath them trembled and shook. The tower was falling apart. There was a sound like a gunshot as a crack ran along the stones between them and the stone she was kneeling on upended, throwing her forwards as the plinth they had battled upon disintegrated. The whole world seemed to be shaking apart. A roaring sound cut through the deafening rumble as she grabbed for Serana. Then something hit her hard on the back of the head and she heard no more.


	33. The Wellspring

The sounds of the dying thunder shattered the absolute quiet of her unconscious state. The world seemed to be reasserting the fact that it was still in existence and was forcing her to recognise it with the throbbing pain that now crept back into the base of her skull. Her head swam and she felt as though her whole body was floating. She squeezed her eyes open and found this was at least partially true. She was lying on white shining scales. Great leathery wings on either side beat rhythmically.

"Hwit," she said in a voice thick with exhaustion.

"Lie still, my sister," came the booming tones of the white dragon, "It has been quite a balancing act keeping you and your fallen companion from slipping from my back." At these words Emily hastily sat up, clinging to the great scales as best she could. Lying a foot from her was Serana. She was unmoving, her chest a mess of burns.

"Serana," cried Emily, scrambling across to where she lay. She was still, her chest unmoving, her eyes closed. Emily clutched at her, willing the necromantic healing spell to form at her fingertips. But her magicka was spent and there came only a few golden tendrils that fizzled out long before they could reach her skin. She tried again and again with little success, her actions becoming more fevered and desperate. She felt helpless and clutched Serana to her chest, tears welling up in her eyes and spilling over.

Hwit circled about the wreckage of the tower. It spread far across the fields and some of the stones had landed as far as one hundred metres away. With each full circle he came lower, easing the descent for the sake of his passengers. Something blue and glinting caught Hwit's eye and the great white dragon dropped lower, veering off to one side. Emily held on tightly to Serana's prone form as the dragon's taloned paws slammed into the earth and his wings lowered. Yet she remained, showing no inclination to dismount or move from the vampiress' side. Instead she stroked Serana's hair, holding her close, begging her to wake with each sobbing breath. When she finally looked up the dragon was looking at her with piercing blue eyes.

"Hwit, what can I do?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Look to the ground, Emily," Hwit responded. Emily looked and saw the scarred earth, the great stones sticking up out of the ground. A few remnants of Miraak's throne lay scattered across the sundered land. And in the midst of all this water bubbled up from below the land that had hidden it from view for millennia. It was crystalline, clear and bubbled over the rocks and dirt. Yet for all the dust that lingered in the air, thrown up by the tower's destruction, it remained clear.

"It is the wellspring," said Hwit, a note of reverence in his voice as he sank to the ground, "Sought by man and beast in the days of old before the druids sealed it away. It lay hidden for so long." Emily knew what she wanted to ask the old dragon but she dreaded his response so instead she gathered Serana up in her arms. Every muscle cried out for rest as she slid down off the dragon's back. The ground was uneven and she staggered to the water's edge with Serana. She looked at it a moment, silently willing it to be more than simple water. Then she plunged in. The water came up to her chest and she carried Serana to the centre, submerging her so that only her head remained above the water's surface. There was no healing light, no glowing power that engulfed them. No tingling sensation like she might have expected. Perhaps the magic was gone, extinct like its practitioners. Once more tears welled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks as she bent forward, kissing Serana's brow tenderly.

"If only I had been quicker," she whispered, "If only I could have protected you better." There was silence, broken only by the faint whisper of the wind and the water rippling around them.

"I think I told you before not to worry about me, didn't I?"

Scarcely daring to look, Emily raised her head. Serana smiled faintly. Her red eyes spoke mainly of exhaustion and, perhaps, relief. One hand rested on her chest whose wounds had paled considerably. The marks left by the tentacles were faint now and, as Emily watched, continued to recede. Only when she moved did she notice that her own wounds had been healed. Hwit watched them from the shore.

"The wellspring runs with the same magic it held so long ago," he said, "That much is evident. What will you do now, my sister?"

"I think it's time we went home," said Emily, turning back to Serana, "Back to Tamriel."

"But what of Earth?" Serana asked. Emily shook her head.

"I might have been born here, grown up here," she replied, " But that doesn't make it my home. I belong in Skyrim. With you." She touched her brow to Serana's. Serana smiled then, putting her arms about the Earthling. Emily held her as tightly as her tired muscles would allow, burying her face in her hair. She looked up suddenly and Serana gave her a questioning look.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The portal, there can't be much time left until it closes," said Emily, "How will we get back?" Hwit raised his head.

"Where does this portal lie?" he asked.

"In Norway," Emily replied, "In the mountains near Bessvatnet." Hwit stretched his head out over the water so his eyes were locked with Emily's.

"I know it well," he said, "That is the birthplace of my father, of Níðhögg. I will take you. But first, take shelter and rest. The sun rises soon." With that the old dragon got up. He turned his head this way and that as he surveyed the land. "I will keep from here any who may wish to intrude. Though your people have changed in many ways, their fear has not. You may rest undisturbed."

The land, scarred as it was by the tower's destruction, left many an overhang for them to shelter under. They chose one near the wellspring.

"When we were on Hwit's back," said Emily as Serana lay next to her, "I tried to heal you. But I couldn't. The magicka, it wouldn't come. Do you think I've lost it forever, Sera?" Serana shook her head.

"No, Em," she said gently, "Your magic will return in time. You were pushed far beyond your limits yet still-" Her hand rested on the side of Emily's face. "You still defeated him."

"And Maylene," said Emily quietly. She sighed. Serana shifted closer.

"Are you alright, Em?" she asked. Emily turned to face her. There was still a cut below her right eye that the wellspring's waters had not reached. It would likely scar but this bothered her little.

"I will be," said Emily softly. She looked up at the rocky overhang they sheltered under.

"I think I always knew deep down that there was something off about her, even when we first met," she said, "If I'd obeyed my gut instinct…" She shook her head. "But it took me a long time to figure out just how bad she was. She liked to manipulate and put down those around her. Make them feel small and weak. I think it gave her a sense of power. But I never imagined it would come to this." Emily frowned. "I thought that… if he had corrupted her," she said, "That I would somehow feel better. That that wasn't the real her I was fighting. Or maybe that would make me feel worse. I really don't know."

"And do you?" Serana asked, "Do you think he corrupted her?" Emily shook her head.

"He might have twisted her further," she replied, "By giving her the kind of power she craved. But it was always there I think."

"I wish there was something I could say to make things better," said Serana quietly. Emily turned back to face her. There was the slightest ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Having you here helps," she replied, "Knowing you're still here." Serana smiled back, one hand drifting through the burnt ends of Emily's hair. She passed the burnt hairs between her thumb and forefinger.

"You know, when I said I liked the look of your hair last time you burnt half of it off," she said teasingly, "There was no need for a repeat performance." Emily chuckled. "And I think when we get back we'll need to get you another set of armour."

"Speak for yourself," smiled Emily, "I think yours will take a little more than a patch job." Serana laughed softly, nestling closer to the Earthling.

"We should get some rest," she said gently. Emily nodded, reaching one arm around the vampiress. She felt Serana's breath at her neck as the vampiress buried her face there, her dark hair falling in small waves across her chest. The exertion of what she had undergone, the vast output of magicka and thu'um and the emotional turmoil finally caught up with her and she drifted quickly into a dreamless sleep.

They awoke at moonrise. Hwit had pushed his head in under the overhang the moment the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. Cold air puffed from his nostrils.

"We should make haste," he said as Emily and Serana sat up to regard the nocturnal visitor.

"I have kept the mortals from this place but they grow ever more insistent," he continued, "Your battle atop the tower and its collapse did not go unnoticed."

"How close are they?" Emily asked.

"I have kept them out of the field," Hwit replied, "But there is a road close by. They are martialled along its length. It looks to me that they are preparing to march on our position."

"Then we'd better not waste any time," said Emily, getting to her feet. Though her muscles still ached she found she was able to stand unaided.

"How long will it take?" Serana asked.

"A few days if we keep over the sea where possible," Hwit replied, "There are nearly always favourable north blowing winds between Englaland and Norweġ."

Emily and Serana shouldered their packs. Emily was grateful now more than ever for the enchantments Serana had weaved upon them to protect them from most physical and magical damage. Aside from a few burnt edges and the strap of Emily's beginning to fray, they were intact.

They left the overhang and followed Hwit out onto open ground, having to move into a light jog to keep up with the dragon's great strides. He stopped and fanned out his wings, stretching them up towards the night sky before lowering himself to the ground to allow the two vampires to climb on. They sat just behind his head and Emily gripped the ivory horns tightly. She felt Serana's arms around her waist as the dragon's wings fanned high over his head. Then they swept downward with a mighty whoosh and they were lifted from the ground. Several more heavy wingbeats in quick succession brought them high enough above the field to see the road Hwit had spoken of. Even now a line of glowing lights marked the presence of the humans keeping vigil over the field. A few small groups had begun to make the trek across the field. Hwit roared. The sound up close was almost deafening and Emily and Serana watched as the humans below scurried for cover.

"Did you really have to frighten them like that?" Emily asked the dragon.

"It was a warning, nothing more," Hwit replied, "Had I truly wished to frighten them I would have gone lower and unleashed winter's breath upon them. They will not follow us now."

They rose higher until the fields became patchworks of green, the roads little more than serpents marked by the trail of traffic whose glittering lights gave the appearance of shimmering scales. And then the clouds began to obscure the land below and Emily had to squint through the damp air which coated her skin with water droplets. By now the dragon's wingbeats had slowed, favourable updrafts carrying them along.

At last they broke through the layer of cloud and met the comparatively still air above. The moon shone overhead, large and luminous, lighting their way. Serana looked up at it where it hung, full and round.

"It seems strange to only have a single moon," said Serana, "But I suppose no stranger than seeing two the first time you looked up at the Tamrielic sky."

"It was their size more than their number that got me the first time," Emily replied, "And how red Masser was. It seemed so…alien."

"What do you call your moon?" Serana asked.

"Most people just call it, 'The Moon,'" Emily replied, "Though I think it's also known as Luna, after the Roman goddess of the Moon," she added after some thought.

When next they caught a glimpse between the clouds they were flying over the vast meshwork of light that marked the city of London. The river Thames wound its way through it, the great bridge at Westminster stretching across like the coiled humps of some great sea serpent. On one side the great towering form of Big Ben rose higher than most of its brethren, the faint chimes of midnight carrying up to the ears of the three travellers soaring above. Then they had left it behind, entering the airspace over the vast expanse of sea.

For over an hour the way ahead remained blank and featureless. They talked to pass the time and took it in turns to make sure the other did not fall asleep from the sheer unchanging nature of the flight. Hwit told them of what England was like before he entered what he assumed to be an eternal sleep, when the last of Earth's magic fell into dormancy and with it, all creatures associated with myth and folklore.

"Why did it happen?" Emily asked.

"They ceased to believe in us," came Hwit's blunt response, "When a dragon instills fears in his mortal enemies he not only gains from them bounties in livestock and gold but also ensures his own survival. As time went by the mortals came up with other explanations for us. Sightings were declared hoaxes, meetings were put down to insanity. It is my belief they made a conscious choice to no longer believe. And so, one by one we fell asleep."

"What happened then?" asked Serana, "Surely the sight of sleeping dragons, unicorns and who knows what else must have been undeniable proof."

"We did not remain in sleep as you see now," Hwit replied, "The giants became great boulders and pillars of stone, the unicorns melted into the forest glades they once called home. And the dragons, we became one with the land itself. And so it was until Miraak woke us. Myself and my brother."

"And what will happen now?" Emily asked, "With Miraak gone?"

"You believe in my existence so I remain," Hwit replied, "Once you return to Tamriel, I cannot say." Emily said nothing. She felt contrite at this revelation.

"I sense your unease," Hwit continued, "You make the mistake of looking at the eternal sleep as though it were death. It is not. We live on, differently than before but we live. As part of the world itself. I made my peace with the idea long ago. Nothing ever stays the same forever."

As the dawn of the first day of their journey approached they reached the Netherlands, taking shelter in a sea cave. Hwit, whose great bulk would not allow for such a precarious landing as one on the rocks outside the cave, was forced to land on the cliffs above and his two charges made their way down to the cave. It reminded Emily strongly of the cave they had taken shelter in on Solstheim. It seemed to her, an age ago now. Lydia had caught small slimy fishes for a meagre meal. A torch wedged between to rocks had been their only source of heat and light and the sharp rocks had made for poor bedding. They passed much of the day huddled together, moving further into the cave as midday came and the sun reached its highest point in the sky. From inside, Emily heard the gurgle of the sea lapping between the rocks, the keening cry of seabirds and the distant bell that marked the presence of a small fishing vessel.

On the second night they struck out Northward into the North sea. They kept above a layer of cloud where possible and most of what little land Emily saw below was coastal, dotted with towns and villages whose boarders were shared with the lapping grey waves. As the moon reached its highest point the skies grew grey and ominous. They were forced inland by a squall as rain lashed them, plastering their hair to their heads and the torn remains of their armour to their skin.

They passed the second day in a small cave near the coast of Denmark. This one was dry and offered a more pleasant place to rest. Hwit remained on guard outside but he was careful to keep out of sight. His icy scales shone like beacons in the morning sun. He pushed his way into a copse of trees, uprooting several young saplings in the process and all that could be seen were his blue eyes burning in the shadows.

On the third night they reached Norway. Emily could see the great lake of Bessvatnet, its iron grey surface reflecting the clear night above. The moon hung pendulously over the lake, lending it a silvery cast. All around the lakes the mountains rose up like the ridges of some great crown. Their peaks were snowcapped, their sides steep. At the top of one of these lay the portal. Emily pulled her phone from her pocket, switching it on.

"Can you go lower, Hwit?" she asked, "I need to pick up the GPS signal." Hwit obliged and they flew lower. The GPS activated and Emily tapped on the last marked destination. The map zoomed out so both their current location and their destination could be clearly seen. Their locational marker stuttered for they were travelling faster than the tracking software was used to handling. It jumped about even as Emily held out the phone at different angles, trying to locate a better signal.

"It's no good Hwit, we'll have to land," she said over the sound of the wind, "I can't pick up our location on here reliably."

"Very well," Hwit replied as he closed his wings and dropped lower. They came to land on a large green expanse close to the lake. The grass here grew wild and abundant, lending the rolling green hills a shimmering quality as the wind blew cool and fresh. Flowering Reinrose and Alpine Catch-fly grew between the green blades while Starry Saxifrage grew in the crevices between the rocks.

"This is where I must leave you," said Hwit as Emily and Serana dismounted. He bowed his great head to them.

"Where will you go now?" Emily asked.

"If the great sleep calls me then I will lie down and become one with the land as I did before," Hwit replied, "If not, I will travel this world. There are many old haunts I wish to visit and if, in his travels, Miraak awoke any of my brethren I will seek them out. There may be others out there yet."

"And the Earthlings?" Emily asked. Hwit shook his head.

"I will not harm them," he replied, "If that is your wish. There are many secluded spots in this world that even humanity has yet to discover. Any brethren of mine that I find, I will bring there. It will be good to have company again after countless centuries."

"There's one more thing, Hwit," Emily asked, "Why did you save us, back at the tower?" Hwit looked at her with quiet bemusement.

"Is the answer not obvious?" he asked, "When you defeated Miraak, another of the dragonkind in mortal form, you proved yourself the strongest of our kind. You bested my brother in battle and you bested me with the weight of your voice. I acknowledge your power."

"But had you let us fall, then you would have been strongest," Emily said. Hwit shook his head, closing his eyes scornfully.

"Dragons do not believe in employing such low cunning," he replied, "It is beneath us." He looked at each of them in turn before unfolding his wings. "I wish you luck in your travels, both of you. Farewell." With that he rose up from the ground with great heavy wingbeats, soaring off into the night sky. Serana rested a hand on Emily's shoulder.

"We should go," she said. Emily nodded, inspecting the screen.

"We need to go west," she replied, "It's there, at the top of that mountain." She pointed to one of the snowcapped mountains. And with that they set off.

The way up the mountain was hard going. There was no direct path to the summit and they relied on game trails to find a less arduous route up the steep rocky crags. A mountain hare, disturbed by their footsteps, bounded along the path in front of them and dove into a thicket.

"They make it look easy, don't they?" Serana said as she turned to help Emily up over a rock.

"Horribly easy," Emily replied wryly, taking the hand offered to her, "At least we're almost at the top now." She shouldered her pack and followed Serana up the small dirt path that wound between lichen covered rocks and great thorny bushes. As they crested the next hill Emily saw the portal stone, the blue wavering light rippling like a curtain stirred by the wind.

"Race you," she said to Serana, suddenly feeling new energy in her step. Serana shook her head with a smile and hurried after her companion. It was just over twenty yards away when Emily saw it flicker. Her breath caught in her throat as she grabbed Serana's hand in sudden panic, bolting toward it. It flickered again, wavering, dimming.

"No, no, no," Emily cried as they bolted for it, "Just a little longer. Please."

Ten yards, the portal flickered, dimming further. Emily and Serana closed their eyes, leaping at the portal. They passed through, rolling over and over down the slope, tumbling across sharp rocks and dirt, coming to a rest by a large boulder. Emily opened her eyes and saw the moon, the single solitary moon above.


	34. Epilogue

"We were too late," said Emily, staring up at the night sky. They climbed to their feet and turned back to face the portal. They stood, staring at where the portal had been mere seconds before. There was nothing to mark where it had been. Emily's shoulders slumped, her hand slackening on the shoulder strap of the rucksack until it dropped to the ground with a clang. A hand rested gently on her shoulder. It was a gesture she did not expect. She'd expected her to be angry. She'd just robbed her of her own world.

"I'm sorry," said Emily, turning slowly to face the vampiress.

"For what? "she asked. The question caught Emily completely off guard.

"Serana," she said, "We can't return to Tamriel. Ever. I don't have the power to reopen the portal, repeat what happened in Norway, anything!" She put her face in her hands, drawing a ragged breath.

"I know," Serana replied quietly and when Emily looked up she saw the vampiress was smiling.

"I don't understand," said Emily.

"What don't you understand?" Serana asked gently.

"I thought you'd be upset, angry." Emily felt as though Serana somehow didn't fully comprehend their predicament. "Serana, I can't get you home."

"I know, "said Serana, "Don't you think I weighed up that possibility when we came here?" She cupped Emily's chin, tilting her head up so their eyes met. "Wherever you are, that's home. I learnt that a long time ago." Emily laughed in spite of herself.

"That's so cheesy," she chuckled.

Serana smiled as she leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Emily reached up, her arms falling across Serana's shoulders, her fingers catching in her cloak as she smiled into the kiss. The mountain wind gambolled about them. She was dimly aware of a silvery light falling across them as Serana's lips caressed hers. The wind picked up and mixed with it was a faint roar. The roar rose in volume and they drew apart, blinking into the blinding light.

"Not interruptin' anything, am I?"

Leaning out of the window of a battered old taxi was the Daedric prince of madness himself. It was then that they realised that the taxi was hovering just over the edge of the precipice, wavering slightly as it was buffeted by the mountain wind.

"Sheogorath, are we ever glad to see you," said Emily in disbelief. Sheogorath laughed.

"Wouldn't be needing a lift back to Tamriel, would you?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer he motioned and the back doors of the flying car flew open. "Hop in."

They climbed into the back seat of the battered old taxi. It rumbled beneath their feet and Emily strapped herself in. You never really knew what would happen with a Daedric Prince of Madness behind the wheel after all. The taxi drew away from the cliff, swaying slightly in mid-air. It was then that Emily noticed the meter on the dashboard seemed to have been converted from pounds and pence into septims and the numbers were steadily rising. Sheogorath noticed her gaze.

"What?" he asked, "A Daedra's got to earn a living after all. Just sit back and we'll be back in Tamriel in no time. Literally." Emily began to search through her pockets and when the Daedric Prince noticed he added, "Don't worry, you can owe me the fare if you don't have it on you." He laughed again and Emily wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"Where did you get the car?" she asked.

"From a fella sitting outside a tavern burning one of those sticks in his mouth," Sheogorath replied, "Now that I think about it, I don't think he was too happy with my taking it. So I made a few modifications. Honestly, I think I improved on the design."

Emily sank back in the seat and she found Serana's hand, squeezing her fingers gently. In response she moved a little nearer, resting her head against hers.

"Long trip?" Sheogorath asked.

"Not half," Emily replied. The car was rapidly picking up speed and Emily felt the G-forces pushing her and Serana back into the seat. Lights rushed by them at incredible speeds and the world below became a racing blur. Then a myriad colours burst in front of them and engulfed them on all sides. They seemed to strike the car like physical objects and the car rattled, rolling from side to side. At one point the car turned upside down before abruptly right itself and white glimmering dust spewed out from the wheels as it grazed against the streams of colour. Then they were in space. At least, it looked to Emily like space. Vast, endless, dark with pinpricks of light that could have been stars. She found she was floating up from the seat and Serana's cloak billowed about her.

"We're almost there," said Sheogorath, "Hold onto your seats, ladies." Then the car was speeding off again and Emily and Serana were thrown back into the seat. Another surge of light and they found themselves speeding past familiar sights. They soared under the stone archway of Solitude, the slipstream of the car causing the boats to sway in their moorings. They flew up over the plains and saw the twinkling lights of Whiterun below them. Then they plunged southwards into the forests. Trees seemed to leap out of the way and branches slapped against the windscreen, turning it into a spiderweb of cracks. The car rolled to one side as a roar filled the air.

"Oh, it looks like this is your stop," smiled Sheogorath, leaning over the back of the seat and looking out the rear windscreen where the ragged winged shape of a dragon was flapping down towards the city of Falkreath. Then the doors were flung open and the car rolled to one side. Emily found she was no longer strapped in and both she and Serana were sliding toward the open door.

"Don't worry," grinned Sheogorath, "Forget the fare. See you around." They left the edge of the seat and plummeted down towards the houses. Emily let out a yell as the thatch roofing of the tavern came up to meet them. They crashed through, tumbling through the layers of thatching and falling between the beams straight onto one of the tables, knocking platters and tankards off the table which spilled their contents onto the floor. They looked into the bewildered faces of the two Nords who had been sitting at the table. One of them dropped his tankard, spilling mead into his lap but he didn't take it under his notice.

"Sorry for dropping in on you like this," Emily said as she scrambled off the table and helped Serana to her feet, "Come on Serana, I think we'd better take care of that dragon." Serana smiled, pulling her bow from her back as they both hurried out into the night. Yes, it was good to be home.


End file.
